M.  Grant  Daniell 


THE 


V/ORKS-  OF    VlRGILltZ-^JM^' 


ii 


TRANSLATED  INTO  ENGLISH  PROSE 


AN  ESSAY  ON  THE  ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS;  QF  mGIL 


JOHN    CONINGTON 

LATE  CCfRPUS  PROFESSOR  OF  LATIN  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD 


EDITED    BY 


JOHN  ADDINGTON   SYMONDS 

LATE   FELLOW  OF  MAGDALEN   COLLEGE 
OXFORD 


BOSTON 
WILLARD   SMALL;    LEE  AND   SHEPARD 
-     NEW  YORK  CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM 
1880 


Uiw/ERsiTY  Press  :  John  Wilson  &  Son, 
Cambridge. 


MCb^ 

\eeo 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


The  English  Translators  op  Virgil,    ...  i 

WORKS   OF  VIRGIL. 

The  Bucolics, 7 

The  Georgics, 40 

The  ^neid, 120 


843348 


THE 
\ 


ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 


To  attempt  an  exhaustive  account  of  all  the  transla- 
tions of  the  whole  or  parts  of  Yirgil  which  have  been 
made  in  English  is  a  task  which  would  exceed  our  own 
opportunities,  as  it  probably  would  the  wishes  of  our 
readers.  Many  of  these  productions  are  doubtless  un- 
known to  us :  with  others  we  are  acquainted  by  name 
or  by  character,  but  they  do  not  happen  to  be  within 
our  reach.  It  is  obvious,  too,  that  there  must  be  a 
considerable  number  which  do  not  deserve  even  the 
slender  honor  of  a  passing  commemoration.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  something  will  depend  on  the  date  and  con- 
sequent rarity  of  the  book.  A  worthless  translation 
of  the  nineteenth  century  calls  for  no  mention  at  all ; 
the  work  can  be  procured  without  difficulty,  or  the 
reader,  if  he  pleases,  can  himself  produce  something 
of  the  same  character.  A  worthless  translation  of  the 
sixteenth  century  has  an  adventitious  value  :  it  is  prob- 
ably rare,  and,  at  any  rate,  the  power  of  producing 
anything  similar  is  gone  for  ever.  While,  therefore, 
we  do  not  cater  for  professed  antiquaries,  we  may, 
perhaps,  hope  to  interest  those  who  care  to  see  how 
Virgil  has  fared  at  the  hands  of  writers,  great  and 
small,  belonging  to  the  various  schools  of  English 
poetr}^ — who,    for   the   sake   of  a  few  instances    of 

i 


ii        ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

beauty  and  ingenuity,  will  pardon  a  good  deal  of  quaint- 
ness,  and  even  some  dullness,  and  are  not  too  severe 
to  smile  at  occasional  passages  of  rampant  extrava- 
gance and  undisguised  absurdit}^. 

A  very  few  words  are  all  that  need  be  spent  on  the 
first  translation  of  Virgil  into  English  by  Caxton. 
The  title,  or  rather  tail-piece,  runs  as  follows :  '  Here 
fynyssheth  the  boke  of  Eneydos,  compyled  by  Vyrgyle, 
whiche  hathe  be  translated  oute  of  latyne  in  to  frenshe, 
And  oute  of  frenshe  reduced  in  to  Englysshe  by  me 
Wyllm  Caxton  the  xxii.  daye  of  luyn,  the  yeare  of  our 
lorde  m.iiii.  clxxxx.  The  fythe  yeare  of  the  Regne 
of  Kynge  Henry  the  seuenth.'  Some  account  of  the 
original  work  (by  Guillaume  de  Roy)  may  be  found 
in  Warton's  '  History  of  English  Poetr}^,'  Section  xxiv. 
It  seems,  in  fact,  to  be  a  romance  made  out  of  the 
'^neid'  by  numerous  excisions  and  some  additions, 
the  bulk  of  the  whole  being  comparatively  small.  We 
have  only  glanced  at  the  translation,  the  printing  as 
well  as  the  language  of  which  is  calculated  to  repel 
all  but  black-letter  students  ;  but  its  chief  characteristic 
seems  to  be  excessive  amplification  of  the  Latin.  This 
is  apparently  the  version  of  Virgil's  two  lines  ('^n.* 
iv.  9,  10)  :  — 

Anna  soror,  quae  me  suspensam  insomnia  terrent? 
Quis  novus  hie  nostris  successlt  sedibus  hospes  ? 

Anne  my  suster  and  frende  I  am  in  ryghte  gret  thoughte 
strongely  troubled  and  incyted,  by  dremes  admonested  whiche 
excyte  my  courage  tenquire  the  maners  «&  lygnage  of  this  man 
thus  valyaunt,  strong,  &  puyssaunt,  whiche  deliteth  hym  stronge- 
ly to  speke,  in  deuysing  the  hie  fayttes  of  armes  and  perillys 
daungerous  whiche  he  sayth  to  haue  passed,  neweli  hither  comyn 
to  soiourne  in  our  countreys.  I  am  so  persuaded  of  grete  ad- 
monestraents  that  all  my  entendement  is  obfusked,  endullyd 
and  rauysshed. 


DOUGLAS  AND   CAXTON.  iU 

It  was  not  long  before  Caxton  was  to  meet  with  one 
who  proved  himself  both  a  severe  critic  and  a  success- 
ful rival.  This  was  '  the  Reverend  Father  in  God, 
Mayster  Gawin  Douglas,  Bishop  of  Dunkel,  and  unkil 
to  the  Erie  of  Angus,'  whose  '  xiii  Bukes  of  Eneados 
of  the  famose  Poete  Virgill  translatet  out  of  Latyne 
verses  into  Scottish  metir,'  though  not  published  till 
1553,  was  written  forty  years  earlier.  In  the  poetical 
preface  to  this  work  —  a  composition  of  some  five 
hundred  lines  —  there  is  a  long  paragraph,  entitled  in 
the  margin  '  Caxtoun's  faultes,'  which  passes  in  review 
the  various  delinquencies  of  the  father  of  printing ; 
his  omission  of  the  greater  part  of  the  '  thre  first 
bukis,'  his  assertion  that  the  storm  in  Book  I.  was 
sent  forth  by  ^olus  and  Neptune^  the  '  prolixt  and  tedi- 
ous fassyoun '  in  which  he  deals  with  the  story  of  Dido, 
his  total  suppression  of  the  Fifth  Book,  his  ridiculous 
rejection  of  the  descent  into  the  shades  as  fabulous, 
his  confusion  of  the  Tiber  with  the  Tover,  his  substitu- 
tion of  Crispina  for  Deiphobe  as  the  name  of  the  Sibyl, 
the  whole  being  summed  up  b}^  the  assurance  that — 

His  buk  is  na  mare  like  Virgil,  dar  I  lay, 
Than  the  nyght  oule  resemblis  the  papingay. 

The  Bishop's  own  Aversion  has  been  highly  praised  by 
competent  judges,  and  we  think  deservedly.  One  spe- 
cimen we  will  give,  and  it  shall  be  from  the  exordium 
of  Book  I. :  — 

The  battellis  and  the  man  I  will  discriue, 
Fra  Troyis  boundis  first  that  fugitiue 
By  fate  to  Italic  come  and  coist  lauyne, 
Ouer  land  and  se  cachit  with  meikill  pyne 
By  force  of  goddis  aboue  fra  euery  stede 
Of  cruel  luno  throw  auld  remembrit  feid : 
Grete  payne  in  batelles  sufferit  he  also, 
Or  he  his  goddis  brocht  in  Latio 


iv       ENGLISH   TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

And  belt  the  ciete,  fra  quham  of  nobil  fame 
The  latyne  peopill  taken  has  thare  name, 
And  eke  the  faderis,  princis  of  Alba, 
Come,  and  the  walleris  of  grete  Rome  alsiia. 

The  reader  of  these  lines  will  not  fail  to  remark  their 
general  closeness  to  the  original,  at  the  same  time  that 
he  will  be  struck  with  a  certain  ditfuseness,  such  as 
seems  to  be  an  inseparable  adjunct  of  all  early  poetry. 
To  expect  that  such  rude  and  primitive  workmanship 
should  represent  adequately  Virgil's  peculiar  graces 
would,  of  course,  be  absurd  ;  but  the  effort  was  a  great 
one  for  the  time  when  it  was  made,  and  our  northern 
neighbors  may  well  be  proud  of  it. 

Not  less  marked,  though  not  altogether  of  the  same 
character,  is  the  interest  attaching  to  the  next  trans- 
lation, or  rather  fragment  of  translation.  The  Earl 
of  Surrey  may  or  may  not  have  died  too  soon  for  the 
political  well-being  of  England,  but  his  fate  was  un- 
doubtedly an  untimely  one  for  her  literature,  and  the 
historian  who  denies  his  claim  to  our  sympathy  ex- 
pressly acknowledges  his  '  brilliant  genius.'  *  His 
Aversion,  which  embraces  the  Second  and  Fourth  Books 
of  the  '^neid,'  deserves  attention,  not  only  for  its 
own  sake,  but  as  the  first  known  specimen  of  Enghsh 
blank  verse.  As  might  be  expected,  the  versification 
is  not  entitled  to  any  very  high  positive  praise.  It  is 
languid  and  monotonous,  and  sometimes  unmetrical 
and  inharmonious  ;  but  the  advance  upon  Gawin  Doug- 
las is  Tery  perceptible.  The  language  is  chiefly  re- 
markable for  its  purity  and  simplicity;  occasionally 
there  is  a  forcible  expression,  but  in  general  a  uniform 
medium  is  kept,  and  a  medern  reader  will  still  com- 
plain a  little  of  prolixity,  though  he  will  acknowledge 
*  Froude's  Hist,  of  England,  vol.  iv.  p.  509. 


SURREY'S  BLANK    VERSE.  y 

that  the  fault  is  being  gradually  corrected.     Dr.  Nott 
has  remarked  that  some  parts  of  the  translation  are 
more  highly- wrought  than  others  ;  and  while  he  draws 
attention  to  the  fact  that  Surrey  has  frequently  copied  j 
Douglas,  whose  work  must  have  been  known  to  him  j  ' 
in  MS.,   he  notes  that   these   obligations    are   much 
more  frequent  in  the  Second  Book  than  in  the  Fourth. 
The  following  extract  (we  quote  from  Dr.  Nott's  edi-   ^ 
tion)  will,  perhaps,  give  an  adequate  notion  of  Sur- 
rey's manner  {'- Mn.'  ii.  228,  '  Tum  vero  tremefacta,' 
&c.)  :  — 

New  gripes  of  dread  then  pierce  our  trembling  breasts. 

They  said,  Lacon's  deserts  had  dearly  bought 

His  heinous  deed,  that  pierced  had  with  steel 

The  sacred  bulk,  and  thrown  the  wicked  lance. 

The  people  cried  with  sundry  greeing  shouts 

To  bring  the  horse  to  Pallas'  temple  blive, 

In  hope  thereby  the  goddess'  wrath  to  appease. 

We  cleft  the  walls  and  closures  of  the  town, 

Whereto  all  help,  and  underset  the  feet 

With  sliding  rolls,  and  bound  his  neck  with  ropes. 

This  fatal  gin  thus  overclamb  our  walls, 

Stuft  with  arm'd  men ;  about  the  which  there  ran 

Children  and  maids,  that  holy  carols  sang; 

And  well  were  they  whose  hands  might  touch  the  cords. 

The  next  translator,  like  Surrey,  onl}^  lived  to  accom- 
plish a  portion  of  the  *  ^neid ; '  but  it  was  a  much 
larger  portion,  and  it  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  com- 
pleted by  another  hand.  Thomas  Phaer,  at  one  time 
*  sollicitour  to  the  king  and  queue's  majesties,  attend- 
ing their  honourable  counsaile  in  the  marchies  of 
Wales,'  afterwards  '  doctour  of  physike,'  published 
seven  Books  of  the  '-^neid'  in  1558.  At  his  death, 
two  years  afterwards,  he  left  a  version  of  the  Eighth 
and  Ninth  Books,  and  a  part  of  the  Tenth;  and  in 


\\ 


Vi       ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

1573  '  the  residue '  was  '  supplied  and  the  whole  worke 
I  together  newly  set  forth  by  Thomas  Twyne,  gentle- 
\  man.'  This  translation  is  in  the  long  fourteen-sy liable 
)  or  ballad  meter,  which  had  then  come  into  vogue, 
being  used  even  in  versions  from  the  drama,*  and 
which  was  afterwards  adopted  by  Chapman  in  render- 
ing the  '  Iliad.'  It  is  of  Chapman,  indeed,  that  the 
ordinary  reader  will  most  naturally  think  in  turning 
over  Phaer's  pages.  Not  to  dwell  on  the  essential 
difference  between  the  two  involved  in  the  choice  of 
subject,  the  ballad-measure  of  Queen  Mary's  time  being 
as  ill  suited  to  the  Virgilian  hexameter  as  the  ballad- 
measure  of  King  James's  may  be  well  suited  to  the 
Homeric,  we  shall  probably  be  justified  in  saying  that 
Phaer's  inferiority  in  original  power  makes  him. more 
faithful  as  a  translator,  though  less  interesting  as  a 
{  writer,  and  that  his  greater  prolixity  gives  him  a 
\  certain  advantage  in  dealing  with  a  measure  which, 
from  its  enormous  length,  can  hardly  be  made  attrac- 
tive, when  written,  as  Chapman  has  written  it,  in 
couplets  closely  interlaced  and  complicated  with  each 
other.  But  Phaer  has  little  or  nothing  of  that  '  daring 
fiery  spirit'  which,  as  Pope  saj^s,  made  Chapman  write 
like  an  immature  Homer ;  and  though  his  language  is 
not  without  merit,  not  many  expressions  can  be  quoted 
from  him  which  would  appear  felicitous  to  a  modern 
taste.  His  greatest  eulogist  is  Godwin,!  who  pro- 
nounces his  book  '  the  most  wonderful  depository  of 
living  description  and  fervent  feeling  that  is  to  be 
found,  perhaps,  in  all  the  circle  of  literature ; '   and, 

*  See  "Warton's  account  of  *  Seneca  his  tenne  Tragedies  trans- 
lated into  English,'  1581  (^Hist.  of  Eng.  Poetry,  §  Ivii.). 

t  Lives  of  Edward  and  John  Philips  (London,  1815),  pp. 
247  foil. 


GODWIN'S  PRAISE   OF  PHAER.  yii 

after,  quoting  various  passages  with  the  highest  com- 
mendation, says  that  whoever  shall  read  his  version 
of  Anchises's  speech  about  Marcellus,  at  the  end  of 
the  Sixth  Book,  will  cease  to  wonder  that  the  imperial 
court  was  dissolved  in  tears  at  Virgil's  recital.  Let 
us  see  if  we  can  transcribe  it  dry-eyed :  — 

^neas  there  (for  walke  with  him  he  saw  a  seemly  knight, 
A  goodly  springold  yong  in  glistring  armour  shining  bright, 
But  nothing  glad  in  face,  his  eyes   downcast  did  shewe  no 

cheere), 
O  father,  what  is  he  that  walkes  with  him  as  equall  peere  ? 
His  onely  son?  or  of  his  stock  some  child  of  noble  race? 
What  bustling  makes  his  mates  ?  how  great  he  goth  with  portly 

grace  ? 
But  cloud  of  louring  night  his  head  full  heauy  wrappes  about. 
Then  lord  Anchises  spake,  and  from  his  eyes  the  teares  brake 

out, 
O  son,  thy  peoples  huge  lamented  losse  seeke  not  to  knowe.        . 
The  destnies   shall  this   child  onto   the  world   no  more    but 

showe, 
Nor  suffer  long  to  Hue :   O  Gods,  though  Rome  you  think  to 

strong 
And  ouermuch  to  match,  for  enuie  yet  do  us  no  wrong. 
What  wailings  loude  of  men  in  stretes,  in  feeldes,  what  mourn- 
ing cries 
In  mighty  campe  of  Mars,  at  this  mans  death  in  Rome  shall 

rise  ? 
What  funeralls,  what  numbers  dead  of  corpses  shalt  thou  see, 
O  Tyber  flood,  whan  fleeting  nere  his  new  tombe  thou  shalt 

flee? 
Nor  shall  there  neuer  child  from  Troian  line  that  shal  proceede 
Exalt  his  graunsirs  hope  so  hie,  nor  nener  Rome  shal  breede 
An  impe  of  maruel  more,  nor  more  on  man  may  iustly  host. 
O  vertue,  O  prescribid  faith,  O  righthand  valiaunt  most  \ 
Durst  no  man  him   haue   met  in  armes  conflicting,  foteman 

fearce, 
Or  wold  he  fomy  horses  sides  with  spurres  encountring  pearce. 
O  piteous  child,  if  euer  thou  thy  destnies  hard  maist  breake, 


viii     ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

Marcellus  thou  shalt  be.     Now  reatche  me  Lillies,  Lilly  flours, 

Giue  purple  Violetts  to  me,  this  neuews  soule  of  ours 

With  giftes  that  I  may  spreade,  and  though  my  labour  be  but 

vayne, 
Yet  do   my  duety  deere   I   shall.      Thus  did  they  long   com- 

playne.' 

The  remaining  attempts  in  the  sixteenth  century 
deserve  registering,  chiefly  as  curious  and  grotesque 
experiments.  Abraham  Fleming,  indeed,  gave  prom- 
ise of  something  better  in  his  '  Bucolikes  of  Publius 
Virgilius  Maro,  with  alphabetical!  Annotations  upon 
proper  nams  of  Gods.  Goddesses,  men,  women,  hilles, 
flouddes,  cities,  townes,  and  villages,  &c.,  orderly 
placed  in  the  margent.  Dravvne  into  plaine  and  famil- 
iar Englishe,  verse  for  verse'  (London,  1575),  vrhich  ' 
is  in  rhymed  fourteen-syllable  measure  in  the  style  of 
Phaer.  But  in  1589  he  published  another  version  of 
the  'Eclogues,'  along  with  one  of  the  '  Georgics,'  in 
which  he  discarded  '  foolish  rime,  the  nise  observation 
whereof  many  times  darkeneth,  corrupteth,  peruerteth, 
and  falsifieth  both  the  sense  and  the  signification,'  in 
favor  of  unrhymed  lines  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  syllables, 
not  very  graceful  in  themselves,  and  rendered  addition- 
ally quaint  by  a  strange  fashion  of  introducing  into 
the  middle  of  the  text  explanatory  notes,  which  form 
part  and  parcel  of  the  meter.  Thus  he  makes  Virgil 
comphment  his  patron  on  — 

Thy  verses,  which  alone  are  worthy  of 
The  buskins  [brave]  of  Sophocles  [I  meane  his  stately  stile], 

and  mentions,  among  the  prognostics  of  fair  weather  — 

And  Nisus  [of  Megera  king  and  turned  to  a  falcon] 
Capers  aloft  in  skie  so  cleere,  and  Scylla  [Nisus  daughter 
Changed  into  a  larke]  doth  smart  for  [his  faire]  purple  haire. 


ELIZABETHAN  HEXAMETERS.  ix 

The  prevalent  mania,  too,  for  reviving  classic  meter, 
which  infected  even  Sidney  and  Spenser,  took  hold,  as 
might  be  expected,  of  the  would-be  translators  of  Virgil. 
Webbe,  in  his  '  Discourse  of  English  Poetrie  '  (London, 
1586),  '  blundered,'  as  he  aptly  as  well  as  modestly  ex- 
presses it,  upon  a  hexametrical  version  of  the  two  first 
'^glogues,'  in  which  Meliboeus  tells  his  '  kidlings' :  — 

Neuer  again  shall  I  now  in  a  greene  bowre  sweetlie  reposed 
See  ye  in  queachie  briers  farre  a  loofe  clambring  on  a  high  hill, 
Now  shall  I  sing  no  lygges,  nor  whilst  I  doo  fall  to  my  iunkets, 
Shall  ye,  my  Goates,  cropping  sweete  flowers  and  leaues  sit 
about  me. 

But  the  most  considerable,  and  by  far  the  most 
extraordinary  feat  of  this  nature  was  performed  by 
Richard  Stanyhurst,  in  his  '  First  Foure  Bookes  of 
Virgil's  ^neis  translated  into  English  Heroical  Verse, 
with  other  PoeticU  devises  thereto  annexed'  (Lon- 
don, 1583).  His  remarks  on  his  own  translation  are  a 
curiosity  in  themselves,  and  may  remind  us  of  Chap- 
man's '  Mysteries  revealed  in  Homer.*  '  Virgil,'  he 
says,  '  in  diuerse  places  inuesteth  luno  with  this  epi- 
theton,  Saturnia.  M.  Phaer  ouerpasseth  it,  as  if  it 
were  an  idle  word  shuffled  in  by  the  authour  to  damme 
vp  the  chappes  of  yawning  verses.  I  never  to  my  re- 
membrance omitted  it,  as  indeed  a  terme  that  carieth 
meate  in  his  mouth,  and  so  emphaticall,  as  that  the 
ouerslipping  of  it  were  in  effect  the  choaking  of  the 
Poets  discourse,  in  such  hanking  wise  as  if  he  were 
throtled  with  the  qhincoughe.  And  to  inculcate  that 
clause  the  better,  where  the  mariage  is  made  in  the 
fourth  boke  betwene  Dido  and  Aeneas,  I  adde  in  my 
verse  Watry  luno.  Although  mine  Author  vsed  not 
the  epitheton,  Watry e,  but  onlye  made  mention  of 
earth,  ayer,  and  fier,  yet  I  am  well  assured  that  word 


\ 


X         ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

throughly  conceiued  of  an  hedeful  student  may  giue 
him  such  light  as  maj-  ease  him  of  six  moneths  trauaile  : 
whj'che  were  well  spent,  if  that  Wedlocke  were  wel 
understoode.*  His  practice  was  not  less  remarkable 
than  his  theory.  Phaer  had  talked  of  '  Sir  Gj^as  '  and 
'  Sir  Cloanthus,'  made  Isis  masquerade  as  '  Dame  Rain- 
b6we,'  and  turned  '  Galium  rebellem '  into  '  rebell 
French.'  Stanyhurst  (we  take  the  instances  given  by 
Warton)  calls  Coroebus  a  '  bedlamite ; '  arms  Priam 
with  his  sword  '  Morglay,'  a  blade  that  figures  in  Gothic 
romance ;  makes  Dido's  '  parvulus  ^neas '  into  '  a 
cockney,  a  dandiprat  hop-thumb,'  and  says  that  when 
Jupiter  '  oscula  libavit  natse'  he  '  bust  his  pretty  prat- 
ing parrot.'  But  he  shall  exhibit  himself  more  at 
length,  and  somewhat  more  favorably,  in  a  passage 
from  the  end  of  the  First  ^neid  (v.  736,  '  Dixit,  et  in 
mensam,'  &c.)  :  — 

Thus  sayd,  with  sipping  in  vessel  nicely  she  dipped. 
Shee  chargeth  Bicias  :  at  a  blow  hee  lustily  swapping 
Thee  wine  fresh  spuming  with  a  draught  swild  up  to  the  bottom. 
Thee  reranaunt  lordings  him  pledge  :     Then  curled  iGppas 
Twang'd  on  his  harp  golden  what  he  whillon  learned  of  Atlas. 
How  the  moone  is  trauers'd,  how  planet  soonnie  reuolueth, 
He  chaunts :  how  mankind,  how  beasts  dooe  carrie  their  off- 
spring : 
How  flouds  be  engendered,  so  how  fire,  celestial  Arcture, 
Thee  raine  breede  sev'n  stars,  with  both  the  Trionical  orders  : 
Why  the  sun  at  westward  so  timely  in  winter  is  housed, 
And  why  the  night  seasons  in  summer  swiftly  be  posting. 
The  Moores  hands  clapping,  thee  Troians  plaudite  flapped. 

In  passing  to  the  seventeenth  century  we  feel  that  a 
change  has  already  set  in.  The  meters  adopted  are 
such  as  commend  themselves  to  modern  ears ;  the  lan- 
guage, though  varying  according  to  the  greater  or  less 
skill  of  the  individual  writer,  is  not  in  general  marked 


TRANSLATIONS  OF  THE  17th  CENTURY,    xi 

by  much  quaintness  or  redundancy.  Let  us  take  a 
specimen  from  the  earliest  version  with  which  we  are 
acquainted  *  —  '  Dido's  Death  ;  Translated  out  of  the 
best  of  Latine  Poets  into  the  best  of  vulgar  Languages. 
By  one  that  hath  no  name'  (London,  1622).  '  Prse- 
terea  fuit  in  tectis,'  &c.  (Book  iv.,  v.  457)  :  — 

In  her  house  of  stone 
A  temple  too  she  had,  of  former  spouse, 
By  her  much  Reuerenc't,  with  holy  bowes 
And  Snowwhite  Wool!  adorn'd,  whence  oft  she  hears 
A  voice  that  like  her  husbands  call  appeares, 
When  darke  night  holds  the  world.     The  ellenge  Owle 
Oft  on  her  housetop  dismall  tunes  did  houle, 
Lamenting  wofuU  notes  at  length  outdrawing : 
And  many  former  Fortune-tellers'  awing 
Porewarnings  fright :     AEneas  too  in  Dreames 
^       Makes  her  runne  mad :  left  by  her  selfe,  she  seemes         ' 
Alone  some  vncouth  foule  long  M^ay  to  haue  taken, 
.  Tyrians  to  seeke  in  desert  Land  forsaken. 

The  vogue  which  these  translations  obtained  does  not 
seem  always  to  have  been  proportioned  to  their  merits. 
In  1628  were  published  '  Virgil's  Georgicks  Englished 
by  Thomas  May,  Esq^.,'  and  '  Virgil's  Eclogves  trans- 
lated into  English  by  W.  L.'  (William  Lisle).  The 
former,  if  little  read,  has  been  not  unfrequently  men- 
tioned since ;  the  very  existence  of  the  latter  has  been 
forgotten. t    Yet  our  readers,  if  we  mistake  not,  will 

*  When  we  wrote  the  above,  we  had  not  met  with  a  translation 
of  the  Second  ^neid  pubhshed  in  1620  by  Sir  Thomas  Wroth, 
under  the  title  of  The  Destruction  of  Troy,  or  the  Acts  of  Aeneas, 
a  copy  of  which  is  in  the  British  Museum.  Our  space  will  only 
allow  us  to  say  that  the  meter  is  Phaer's,  but  the  style  more 
modern. 

t  An  account  of  Lisle,  who  was  an  Anglo-Saxon  scholar  and 
antiquary,  is  given  in  Chalmers's  Biographical  Dictionary  ;  but 


xii     ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS   OF  VIRGIL, 

peruse  the  following  extract  from  Maj-'s  heroics  witji 
comparative  indifference,  while  they  will  thank  us  for 
selecting  two  of  Lisle's  stanzas.  ('Felix  qui  potuit,* 
&c.,  'Georg.'  ii.  490):  — 

Happy  is  he  that  knowes  the  cause  of  things, 
That  all  his  feares  to  due  subjection  brings, 
Yea,  fate  itselfe,  and  greedy  Acheron ! 
Yea,  happy  sure  is  he,  who  ere  has  knowen 
The  rurall  Gods,  Sylvanus,  and  great  Pan, 
And  all  the  sister  Nymphs !  that  happy  man 
Nor  peoples  voices,  nor  kings  purple  moue, 
Nor  dire  ambition  sundring  brothers  loue, 
Nor  th'  Istrian  Dacians  fierce  conspiracies. 
Nor  Romes  estate,  nor  falling  monarchies. 

'  Quem  fugis,  ah  demens,'  &c.  ('  Eel.'  ii.  60)  :  — 

(Ah  foolish  Fon)  whom  dost  thou  seek  to  shun? 
Why,  Dardan  Paris  (that  same  shepheard  knight). 
Yea,  e'ne  the  gods  themselves,  the  woods  did  woon  i 
Let  Pallas  praise  her  Towres  goodly  hight, 
And  in  her  pompous  Palaces  delight 

nothing  is  said  of  this  translation.  He  appears,  however,  to 
have  dedicated  an  edition  of  a  treatise  by  JElfric  to  Prince 
Charles  in  a  copy  of  verses  '  by  way  of  Eclogue,  imitating  the 
4th  of  Virgile,*  besides  being  the  author  of  a  version  from  Du 
Bartas,  and  of  The  Fair  Ethiopian^  which  Chalmers  calls  a 
long  poem  of  very  indifferent  merit. 

Benson,  whom  we  shall  have  occasion  to  mention  below,  says 
that  almost  100  of  May's  lines  are  adopted  by  Dryden  with  very 
little  alteration.  The  first  two  lines  of  May  seem  to  have  been 
copied  by  Ogilby. 

What  makes  rich  crops,  what  season  most  inclines 

To  plowing  th'  earth,  and  marrying  elms  with  vines.  —  May. 

What  makes  Rich  Grounds,  in  what  Caelestial  Signs 

'Tis  good  to  Plow,  and  marry  Elms  with  Vines.  —  Ogtlby, 

Dryden  borrows  also  once  at  least  from  Lisle.  But  of  his  pla- 
giarisms more  below. 


VICARS  AND  SANDYS,  xiu 

"Which  shee  hath  builded :  but  of  all  the  rest, 
In  my  conceit,  the  Forrest-Life  is  best. 
The  crewell  grim-faced  Lionesse  pursues 
The  bloody  Woolfe  :  the  Woolfe  the  kid  so  free ; 
The  wanton  capring  kidd  doth  chiefly  chuse 
Amongst  the  flowring  Cythisus  to  bee  : 
And  Corydon  (Alexis)  foUowes  thee  : 
So  each  thing  as  it  likes  :  and  all  aflfect 
According  as  their  nature  doth  direct. 

We  must  confess,  however,  that  Llsle's  '  Eclogues,' 
which  are  in  a  variety  of  meters,  contain  other  passages 
less  attractive  than  this.  Nor  should  it  be  forgotten 
that  much  of  the  charm  of  these  stanzas  consists  in 
their  reminding  us  of  strains  which,  when  Lisle  wrote, 
already  belonged  to  the  past  —  the  pastoral  poetry  of 
Spenser.  May's  notes  are  less  sweet,  but  they  are 
probably  more  his  own  ;  they  reach  forward,  not  back- 
ward ;  they  contain  not  an  echo  of  Spenser,  but  a 
prophecy  of  Dry  den. 

The  3' ear  1632  saw  a  complete  version  of  the  ^^neid' 
by  Vicars,*  and  a  translation  of  the  First  Book  by 
Sandys.  Vicars,  a  Parliamentar}^  fanatic,  is  known  to 
the  world  as  a  poet  only  by  the  savage  lines  in  '  Hudl- 
bras,'  where  he  is  coupled  with  Withers  and  Prynne  as 
'  inspired  with  ale  and  viler  liquors  to  write  in  spite  of 
nature  and  his  stars.'  Sandys  is  celebrated  as  the 
author  of  the  translation  of  Ovid  which  Pope  read  as 
a  child  and  (not  an  invariable  consequence  with  him) 
praised  as  a  man.  There  seems  to  be  no  merit  in 
Vicars.     Sandys  is  perhaps  superior  to  May,  but,  like 

*  The  title  of  Vicars's  work  is  The  Xll  Aeneids  of  Virgil,  the 
most  renowned  Laureat- Prince  of  Latine  Poets,  translated  into 
English  decasyllahles,  hy  John  Vicars.  Sandys's  is  added  to  an 
edition  of  his  translation  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses  (1632),  and 
entitled,  An  Essay  to  the  Translation  of  VirgiVs  JEneis. 


xiv    ENGLISH   TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

him,  he  pleases  chiefl}-  as  the  harbinger  of  better  things 
in  language  and  versification.  Here  is  a  favorable 
specimen  ('  Est  in  secessu,'  &c.,  '^n.'  i.  159)  ;  — 

Deepe  in  a  Bay  an  He  with  strecht-out  sides 

A  harbor  makes,  and  breakes  the  justling  tides  : 

The  parting  floods  into  a  landlockt  sound 

Their  streams  discharge,  with  rocks  invirond  round, 

Whereof  two,  equal  lofty,  threat  the  skies. 

Under  whose  lee  the  safe  Sea  silent  liogs : 

Their  browes  with  dark  and  trembling  woods  arayd, 

Whose  spreading  branches  cast  a  dreadfull  shade. 

Sir  John  Denham's  translation  of  the  Second  ^neid 
is  said  to  have  been  made  in  1636.  We  know  not 
whether  his  '  Passion  of  Dido  for  -^neas  *  was  written 
at  the  same  time,  but  it  seems  rather  the  better  of  the 
two.  In  both,  however,  Denham  is  very  unequal ;  a 
series  of  vigorous  couplets  will  be  followed  by  passages 
written  in  '  concatenated  metre,'  as  Johnson  calls  it, 
and  disfigured  by  bad  or  feeble  rhymes.  He  is  fond, 
too,  of  ingrafting  comments  and  conceits  upon  his  orig- 
inal, as  when  Dido  tells  ^neas  — 

Thou  shouldst  mistrust  a  wind 
False  as  thy  Vows,  and  as  thy  heart  unkind. 

The  Queen's  djdng  speech  is  a  fair  example  of  his  bet- 
ter manner  ('  Dulces  exuviae,'  &c.,  '  ^n.'  iv.  651)  :  — 

Dear  Reliques  whilst  that  Gods  and  Fates  gave  leave, 
Free  me  from  care,  and  my  glad  soul  receive : 
That  date  which  fortune  gave  I  now  must  end 
And  to  the  shades  a  noble  Ghost  descend  : 
Sichaeus  blood  by  his  false  Brother  spilt 
I  have  reveng'd,  and  a  proud  City  built : 
Happy  alas  I  too  happy  I  had  liv'd. 
Had  not  the  Trojan  on  my  Coast  arriv'd : 


OGILBY,   THE  LITERARY  ADVENTURER,    xv 

But  shall  I  dye  without  revenge?  yet  dye, 
Thus,  thus  with  joy  to  thy  Sichaeus  flye. 
My  conscious  Foe  my  Funeral  fire  shall  view 
From  Sea,  and  may  that  Omen  him  pursue. 

A  better  translation  of  this  Fourth  Book  appeared  in 
1648  by  Sir  Richard  Fanshaw,  a  friend  of  Denham*s, 
who  does  justice  to  his  powers  in  an  excellent  copy  of 
verses  recommendatory  of  his  version  of  Pastor  Fido. 
Fanshaw's  case  is  not  unlike  Lisle's :  instead  of  prose- 
cuting the  cultivation  of  the  heroic,  he  revives  that  of 
the  Spenserian  stanza.  The  choice  was  not  a  happy 
one  under  the  circumstances :  Virgil  did  not  write  in 
periods  of  nine  lines,  and  Fanshaw,  not  being  a  diffuse 
writer,  is  led  in  consequence  to  run  stanza  into  stanza, 
so  that  the  versification  does  not  enable  us  to  follow 
the  sense.  Where,  however,  sense  and  meter  happen 
to  coincide,  he  may  be  read  with  real  pleasure,  as  in 
the  following  passage  ('  Dissimulare  etiam  sperasti,* 
&c.,  '  JEn.'  iv.  305)  :  — 

Didst  thott  hope  too  by  stealth  to  leave  my  land, 
And  that  such  treason  could  be  unbetrayed. 
Nor  should  my  love,  nor  thy  late  plighted  hand, 
Nor  Dido,  who  would  die,  thy  flight  have  stayed? 
Must  too  this  voyage  be  in  winter  made  ? 
Through  storms  ?     O  cruel  to  thyself  and  me  ! 
Didst  thou  not  hunt  strange  lands  and  sceptres  swayed 
By  others,  if  old  Troy  revived  should  be, 
Should  Troy  itself  be  sought  through  a  tempestuous  sea? 

We  now  come  to  the  first  translation  of  the  whole  of 
Virgil,  '  The  Works  of  Publius  Virgilius  Maro,  Trans- 
lated by  John  Ogiiby,  and  Adorn'd  with  Sculp tur,'  first  | 
published   in    1649-50,    and   afterwards,    we    believe,  * 
three  times  reprinted.     This  indefatigable  adventurer, 
who  practiced  successively  or  simultaneously  the  call- 


xvi    ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

ings  of  dancing-master,  original  poet,  translator  from 
the  classics,  and  liter ar}^  projector,  frequently- ruined, 
but  always  recovering  himself,  learned  Latin  in  middle 
life,  and  proceeded  to  translate  Virgil,  as  he  afterwards 
learned  Greek  and  translated  Homer.  In  his  way  he 
must  be  pronounced  successful ;  he  was  ridiculed,  but 
his  version  continued  to  be  bought  till  Drj^den's  came 
into  the  market;  and  the  'Sculpturs'  (engravings), 
which  form  a  prominent  feature  in  this,  as  in  his  other 
books,  were  considered  good  enough  to  be  borrowed  by 
his  rival,  who  did  not  like  to  go  to  the  expense  of  new 
plates.  Nay,  he  seems  to  have  found  admirers  still 
later :  his  work  heads  the  list  of  the  Lad3^'s  Library  in 
the  '  Spectator,*  Dryden's  '  Juvenal '  coming  second  ; 
and  we  happen  to  know  that  it  not  only  is  included 
among  the  books  recommended  for  examination  to  the 
fraternity  of  laborers  whom  the  Dean  of  Westminster 
is  marshaling  with  a  view  to  the  production  of  a  new 
English  dictionar}',  but  that  a  member  of  the  band  has 
undertaken  to  study  it.  In  its  da}^  it  was  doubtless  a 
useful  and  —  in  the  absence  of  anything  better  suited 
to  the  taste  of  that  generation  —  even  a  readable  book. 
It  is  sufficiently  close  to  the  words  of  Virgil  —  much 
more  so  than  Dryden.  Its  margin  is  furnished  with  a 
collection  of  notes  from  the  old  commentators,  done  in 
a  tolerably  business-like  style  ;  and  though  the  author 
shows  no  trace  of  poetical  feeling,  no  real  appreciation 
of  poetical  language,  he  writes  in  general  fair  common- 
place prosaic  Enghsh,  while  his  mastery  over  the  heroic 
couplet  will  probably  be  pronounced  creditable  by  those 
who,  like  our  readers,  have  the  means  of  comparing 
him  with  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries.  Ad 
aperturam  libri,  we  select  the  opening  of  his  Sixth 
^neid:  — 


VERSIONS  OF  THE   FOURTH  ^NEID.     xvii 

Weeping  he  said  :  at  last  with  Sails  a-trip, 

To  the  Euboick  Confines  steers  his  Ship : 

Then  sharpflook'd  Anchors  they  cast  out  before, 

And  the  tall  Navy  fring'd  the  edging  Shore. 

To  Latian  Shores  the  youthful  Trojans  leap'd : 

Some  seek  the  hidden  Seeds  of  Fire  that  slept 

In  Veins  of  Flint;  Beasts  shadie  Holds,  the  Woods 

Others  cut  down,  and  find  concealed  Floods  : 

But  those  high  Tow'rs  pious  ^neassought, 

Where  Phoebus  reign'd,  dread  Sybils  spacious  vault, 

Whom  Delius  had  inspired  with  future  Fates. 

They  enter  Trivia's  Grove,  and  Golden  Gates. 

Daedalus  leaving  Crete  (as  Stories  say) 
Trusting  swift  Wings,  through  skies,  no  usual  way, 
Made  to  the  colder  north  a  desperate  Flight, 
And  did  at  last  on  Chalcis  Tow'r  alight : 
There  he  his  Wings  to  thee,  O  Phoebus,  paid, 
And  wide  Foundations  of  a  Temple  laid. 
The  stately  porch  Androgeus  death  adorn'd. 
Then  the  Athenians,  punish'd,  early  mourn'd 
For  seven  slain  children  :  there  the  Lottery  stood  ; 
High  Crete  against  it  overlook'd  the  Flood. 

Ogilby's  elaborate  work  may  possibly  have  stood  in 
the  T^y  of  other  attempts  on  a  large  scale,  but  it  did 
not  deter  '  holiday-authors,'  as  Dryden  calls  them,  who 
felt  they  could  do  better,  from  exhibiting  specimens  of 
their  powers  in  translating  portions  of  Virgil.  The 
Fourth  Book  of  the  '^neid'  still  continued  to  be  pop- 
ular with  this  class  of  writers,  three  or  four  of  whom 
attempted  it  about  this  time  —  Edmund  Waller  and 
Sidney  Godolphin  (1658),  Sir  Robert  Howard  (1660), 
and  Sir  Robert  Stapylton.  None  of  them  are  memora- 
ble ;  but  as  some  slight  interest  may  be  felt  in  compar- 
ing them,  we  give  their  versions  of  the  end  of  the  book 
in  juxtaposition  :  —  , 


xviii    ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

From  heaven  then  Iris  with  So   dewy  rose-winged    Iris,* 

dewy  wings,  having  won 

On  which  the  Sun  a  thousand  Thousand     strange     colours 

glories  flings,  from  the  adverse  Sun, 

Flies  to  her  head  :  This  to  the  Slides   down,    stands   on  her 

dark  abode  head  :  I  bear  this,  charged, 

I  bear,  and  free  thee  from  this  Sacred  to  Dis  :  be  from  this 

body's  load,  flesh  enlarged. 

She  said:  then  with  her  right  Thus  says,  and  cuts  her  hair: 

hand  cuts  her  hair,  together  slides 

And  her  enlarged  breath  slides  All    heat,   and  into   air  her 

into  air.  —  Howard.  spirit  glides.  —  Stapylton. 

Godolphin  makes  such  short  work  of  Dido's  death, 
that  we  are  compelled  to  begin  our  extract  from  hun 
some  lines  earlier :  — 

Then  Juno,  looking  with  a  pitying  eye 

Upon  so  sad  and  lasting  misery, 

Since  deepest  wounds  can  no  free  passage  give 

To  self-destroyers  who  refuse  to  live, 

Sent  Iris  down  to  cut  the  fatal  hair ; 

Which  done,  her  whole  life  vanished  into  air. 

Waller's   work  merely   embraces   about   a  hundred 
lines,  which  were  not  translated  by  Godolphin.     The 
following  lines  will  show  that  it  is  well  for  him  that 
his  reputation  as  an  English  poet  does  not  rest  on  his 
translation.     '  Tu  lacrimis  evicta  meis  '  (v.  548)  :  — 
Ah  sister !  vanquished  with  my  passion,  thou 
Betrayedst  me  first,  dispensing  with  my  vow. 
Had  I  been  constant  to  Sychaeus  still. 
And  single-lived, t  I  had  not  known  this  ill. 

*  *  Dewy  rose-winged  Iris '  also  appears  in  Ogilby,  who  resem- 
bles Stapylton  likewise  in  his  version  of '  teque  isto  corpore  solvo.' 

t  *  Single-lived  '  is  the  spelling  of  the  copy  before  us  (1658)  ; 
but  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  writer  did  not  intend  '  lived ' 
for  a  verb.  In  that  case  the  compound  adjective  would  be 
rather  a  felicitous  blunder. 


JAMES  HARRINGTON.  xix 

Such  thoughts  torment  the  Queen's  enraged  breast, 
"While  the  Dardanian  does  securely  rest 
In  his  tall  ship,  for  sudden  flight  prepared  : 
To  whom  once  more  the  son  of  Jove  appeared. 

More  remarkable  than  any  of  these  experiments  on 
Dido's  stor}^  is  '  An  Essay  upon  Two  of  Virgil's  Ec- 
logues, and  Two  Books  of  his  -^neis  (if  this  be  not 
enough)  towards  the  Translation  of  the  whole.  By 
James  Harrington,  1658.  The  author,  Sir  James 
Harrington,  better  known  by  his  '  Oceana,'  is  com- 
pared to  Vicars  by  Butler,  who,  disliking  his  politics, 
chose  to  sneer  at  his  poetry  ;  but  those  who  have  seen 
his  Essay  will  feel  that  the  sneer  falls  pointless.  Un- 
equal, and  occasionally  grotesque,  he  3^et  shows  unde- 
niable signs  of  vigor  and  ability,  reminding  us  of 
Cowle}^  both  in  his  better  and  his  worse  manner.  His 
felicities  are  not  indeed  Virgilian,  as  when  he  translates 
'  Oscula  libavit  natae  ' 

Jove,  with  the  smiles  that  clear  the  weitther,  dips 
His  coral  in  the  nectar  of  her  lips, 

or  speaks  of  ^neas  among  the  paintings  at  Carthage  as 

wandering  through  a  world  the  pencil  struck 
As  out  of  Chaos  with  stupendous  luck  : 

but  they  are  felicities  nevertheless  :  nor  need  we  deny 
him  the  praise  of  ingenuity  when  he  tells  us  that  Dido 

brings  the  Trojan  to  her  court, 
And  sends  a  royal  present  to  the  port, 
A  hundred  ewes  and  lambs,  a  hundred  sows ; 
And  Bacchus  rides  upon  a  drove  of  cows. 

The  first  simile  in  the  '  jEneid '  is  rendered  thus  :  — 

As  when  some  mighty  city  bursteth  out 
Into  sedition,  the  ignoble  rout 


XX       ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

Assault  the  palaces,  usurp  the  street 

With  stones,  or  brands,  or  anything  they  meet 

(For  Fury's  armoury  is  everywhere)  : 

But,  if  a  man  of  gravity  appear 

Whose  worth  they  own,  whose  piety  they  know, 

Are  mute,  arc  planted  in  the  place,  and  grow 

Unto  his  lips,  that  smooth,  that  melt  their  souls : 

So  hush  the  waves  where  Neptune's  chariot  rolls. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  number  of  holiday-authors 
increased  formidably  after  the  Restoration  —  so  formi- 
dably that  it  would  be  impossible  within  our  present 
limits  to  give  any  adequate  account  of  their  several 
performances.  Not  one  of  the  six  volumes  of  Ton- 
son's  '  Miscellany '  is  without  some  pieces  of  Virgilian 
translation  :  one  of  them,  the  first,  contains  a  complete 
translation  of  the  '  Eclogues  '  by  various  hands  ;  a  col- 
lection which  Dryden  enriched  by  two  of  his  own  ver- 
sions, and  from  which  he  afterwards  did  not  disdain  to 
borrow.*  Of  these  studies  by  far  the  most  noteworthy 
is  '  The  Last  Eclogue,  translated,  or  rather  imitated,  in 
the  year  1666,  by  Sir  William  Temple,  Bart.,'  a  re- 
markably flowing  and  vigorous  paraphrase,  some  lines 
of  which  might  challenge  comparison  with  Dr3^den's 
own.  As  it  appears  now  to  be  quite  forgotten,  we 
shall  not  apologize  for  extracting  from  it  rather  co- 
piously :  — 

One  labour  more,  O  Arethusa,  yield, 
Before  I  leave  the  shepherds  and  the  field : 

*  Dryden's  chief  plagiarisms  are  from  the  version  of  Eclogue 
I.,  'by  John  Caryll,  Esq".,'  twenty-four  of  whose  lines  he  appro- 
priates, with  slight  changes.  But  there  are  cases  of  obligation 
in  subsequent  Eclogues  which  a  future  editor  of  Dryden's  Virgil 
will  do  well  to  note. 


TEMPLE'S  'LAST  ECLOGUE:  xxi 

Some  verses  to  my  Gallus  ere  we  part, 
Such  as  may  one  day  break  Lycoris'  heart, 
As  she  did  his.     Who  can  refuse  a  song 
To  one  that  loved  so  well,  and  died  so  young  ? 
Begin,  afnd  sing  Gallus'  unhappy  fires, 
While  yonder  goat  to  yonder  branch  aspires 
Out  of  his  reach.     We  sing  not  to  the  deaf: 
An  answer  comes  from  every  trembling  leaf. 

Under  a  lonely  tree  he  lay  and  pined, 
His  flock  about  him  feeding  on  the  wind. 
As  he  on  love  :  such  kind  and  gentle  sheep 
E'en  fair  Adonis  would  be  proud  to  keep. 

What  shakes  the  branches  ?  what  makes  all  the  trees 

Begin  to  bow  their  heads,  the  goats  their  knees? 

Oh !  'tis  Silvanus,  with  his  mossy  beard 

And  leafy  crown,  attended  by  a  herd 

Of  wood-born  satyrs  :  see  !  he  shakes  his  spear, 

A  green  young  oak,  the  tallest  of  the  year. 

Would  it  had  pleased  the  Gods  I  had  been  born 
Just  one  of  you,  and  taught  to  wind  a  horn, 
Or  wield  a  hook,  or  prune  a  branching  vine, 
And  known  no  otlier  love  but,  Phyllis,  thine. 
Or  thine,  Amyntas  :  what  though  both  are  brown  ? 
So  are  the  nuts  and  berries  on  the  down ; 
Amongst  the  vines,  the  willows,  and  the  springs 
Phyllis  makes  garlands,  and  Amyntas  sings. 
No  cruel  absence  calls  my  love  away 
Further  than  bleating  sheep  can  go  astray : 
Here,  my  Lycoris,  here  are  shady  groves. 
Here  fountains  cool  and  meadows  soft :  our  loves 
And  lives  may  here  together  wear  and  end : 
O,  the  true  joys  of  such  a  fate  and  friend ! 

Meantime,  while  veteran  diplomatists,  rising  peers, 
and  future  secretaries  of  state  were  emplojing  them- 
selves with  these  occasional  performances,  the  whole 


xxii  ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL, 

of  Virgil  was  being  undertaken  by  a  patrician  author, 
Richard  Maitland,  Earl  of  Lauderdale.  Unfortunatel}^ 
for  his  reputation,  his  lordship  appears  to  have  hesitat- 
ed about  pubhshing,  and,  while  he  hesitated,  the  time 
went  by.  The  version  of  the  First  Georgic  appeared  in 
the  third  volume  of  the  '  Miscellany,'  in  1694 :  the 
'^neid'  was  communicated  to  Dryden  before  he  had 
embarked  in  his  own  great  undertaking,  and  suffered 
to  remain  in  his  hands  afterwards.  At  length  it  was 
resolved  that  it  should  be  given  to  the  world,  but  the 
design  was  prevented  b}'  the  author's  death.  Two  years 
later  Dryden  took  his  place  as  the  translator  of  Virgil, 
and  the  chance  was  gone  for  even  a  temporary  occupa- 
tion of  the  throne.  When  the  great  poet,  in  the  pref- 
ace to  his  '^neid,'  complimented  his  noble  friend's 
work,  acknowledging  some  of  his  obligations  to  it,  and 
concealing  others,  he  spoke  as  if  he  did  not  expect  that 
it  would  ever  see  the  light.  Eventually,  however,  the 
entire  translation  found  an  editor,  who  supposed,  or 
affected  to  suppose,  that  if  it  could  no  longer  reign 
alone,  the  crown  might  at  any  rate  be  divided.  '  They 
who  do  not  place  my  Lord  Lauderdale  upon  the  same 
foot  with  Mr.  Dr3^den,'  says  this  friendly  critic,  '  must 
be  equall}^  injurious  to  the  one's  judgment  and  to  the 
other's  translation  ;  for  'twill  be  easj^  to  find  upon  the 
parallel  that  the  poetry  of  South  and  North  Britain  is 
no  more  incompatible  than  the  constitution.'  But  the 
union  did  not  extend  to  translations  of  Virgil.  The 
North  British  version  seems  to  have  attracted  no  atten- 
tion :  Trapp  praises  it,  and  Martyn  and  Davidson  quote 
it ;  but  it  probably  was  never  read.  Any  one  who  will 
now  take  the  trouble  to  look  at  it  will  see  that  it  is  not 
without  merit.  But  though  the  noble  translator  was  a 
better  versifier  and  a  greater  master  of  English  than 


LAUDERDALE'S   TRANSLATLON.        xxiii 

Ogilb}',  he  had  studied  in  a  school  which  is  on  the 
whole  less  favorable  to  a  writer  of  limited  powers :  in- 
stead of  copying  his  original  closel}',  he  sometimes 
transforms  and  adds  to  it ;  and  his  transformations  and 
additions  are  hardly,  in  Denham's  language,  true  to 
Virgil's  fame.  The  following  is  an  extract  from  the 
version  of  the  '  Georgics,'  which  is  more  flowing  than 
that  of  the  'JEneid'  (' Nocte  leves  melius  stipulse,' 
&c,    '  Georg.'  i.  289)  :  — 

Parched  meadows  and  dry  stubble  mow  by  night : 
Then  moisture  reigns,  which  flies  Apollo's  light. 
Some  watch,  and  torches  sharp  with  cleaving  knives 
Till  late  by  winter  fires  :  their  careful  wives, 
To  ease  their  labour,  glad  the  homely  rooms 
"With  cheerful  notes,  while  weaving  on  their  looms, 
Or  else  in  kettles  boil  new  wine,  and  skim 
The  dregs  with  leaves,  when  they  o'erflow  the  brim. 
But  reap  your  yellow  grain  with  glowing  heat, 
And  on  your  floor  with  scorching  Phoebus  beat. 
When  days  are  clear,  then  naked  till  and  sow : 
In  lazy  winter  labourers  lazy  grow  : 
For  that's  a  jovial  time,  when  jovial  swains 
Meet,  and  in  fea^g^g  waste  their  summer  gains, 
As  seamen,  come  to  port  from  stormy  seas, 
Pirst  crown  their  vessels,  then  indulge  their  ease. 

In  1696,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  Drj^den's 
translation  was  published.  Of  its  surpassing  merits  we 
must  defer  speaking  till  we  have  finished  our  chrono- 
logical enumeration,  as  they  are  not  of  a  nature  which 
will  bear  dismissing  in  a  few  sentences.  Standing  as 
it  does  nearl}'  midway  in  the  history  of  Virgilian  trans- 
lations, it  throws  into  the  shade  not  onl}^  all  that 
preceded,  but  all  that  have  followed  it.  If  Dryden's 
successors  are  less  incapable  of  being  put  into  compari- 
son with  him  than  his  predecessors,  it  is  to  Drjrden 


J 


xxiv     ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

himself  that  the  advantage,  such  as  it  is,  is  in  some 
measure  due. 

Diyden's  successors  did  not,  in  the  first  instance, 
attempt  to  meet  him  on  his  own  ground.  He  had  him- 
self expressed  an  opinion,  whether  deliberate!}'  formed 
or  not,  in  favor  of  translations  into  blank  verse ;  and 
translations  into  blank  verse  soon  became  as  popular 
among  writers,  if  not  among  readers,  of  poetry  as 
translations  into  rhyme.  The  illustrious  examples  of 
Shakspeare  and  Milton,  long  slighted,  had  at  last  done 
their  work,  the  one  restoring  blank  verse  in  tragedy, 
the  other  reinstating  it  in  epic  poetry  :  the  new  measure 
was  doubtless  felt  to  be  easier  than  the  old ;  and  criti- 
cism was  beginning  to  find  out  that  a  translation  which 
should  represent  the  words  as  well  as  the  general  mean- 
ing of  an  author  could  hardly  be  executed  in  such 
rhyme  as  the  literary  public  of  the  eighteenth  century 
would  care  to  read.  Accordingly,  when  Dr.  Brady, 
Nahum  Tate's  coadjutor  in  the  New  Version  of  the 
Psalms,  turned  to  translating  the  '  ^neid '  (1716- 
1726) ,  he  translated  it  into  blank  verse.  His  attempt  is 
characterized  contemptuously  enoit^h  by  Johnson,  whose 
opinion  we  do  not  feel  inclined  to  dispute.  The  next 
blank- verse  experiment  is  better  known  to  ourselves, 
and  probably  to  our  readers  also.  In  the  last  volume 
of  Tonson's  '  Miscellany,'  Trapp  appeared  as  a  transla- 
tor of  the  Tenth  Eclogue  into  rhyme,  and  of  the  end  of 
the  First  Georgic  into  blank  verse  :  he  was  afterwards 
to  execute  a  blank  version  of  the  whole  of  Virgil's  three 
poems,  publishing  the  '  ^neid  '  in  1717  or  1718,  the 
'  Bucolics '  and  '  Georgics  '  about  1731.  We  may  per- 
ha;ps  speak  of  his  work  more  in.  detail  hereafter  ;  for  the 
jjresent  it  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  whether  owing  to  the 
university  reputation  of  the  author,  who  was  the  first 


TRANSLATIONS  IN  BLANK  VERSE,     xxv 

Oxford  Professor  of  Poetrj^  or  to  the  more  substantial 
recommendations  of  a  version  which,  as  Johnson  says, 
might  serve  as  the  clandestine  refuge  of  schoolbojs,  and 
of  a  commentary  containing  a  good  deal  of  information 
and  not  a  little  prosaic  good  sense,  the  book  reached 
the  honors  of  a  third  edition  in  1735. 

In  1764  Trapp's  example  was  followed  by  another 
ex-Professor  of  Poetry,  Hawkins  by  name.  If  we  are 
unable  to  give  any  account  of  his  version  of  the 
'  -/Eneid,'  we  maj-  plead  as  our  excuse  that  it  is  not  to 
be  found  in  the  library  of  the  University  of  which  the 
translator  was  a  professor,  nor  in  that  of  the  college 
(Pembroke)  of  which  he  was  a  Fellow,  nor  again  in 
that  of  the  British  Museum.  By  way  of  amends,  how- 
ever, we  can  tell  our  readers  something  of  the  transla- 
tion which  appeared  next  in  order  of  time,  '  The  Works 
of  Virgil  Englished  by  Robert  Andrews,  1766.'  The 
author,  who  was  fortunate  enough  to  secure  Baskerville 
for  his  printer,  and  thus  to  make  his  work  externally, 
at  an}^  rate,  a  most  attractive  one,  imputes  the  short- 
comings of  former  translators  to  their  adoption  of 
rhyme.  '  The  best  of  'em  had  not  doft  their  Gothic 
shackles  when  the}'  dared  to  the  race  the  most  rapid  of 
the  poets  :  how  then  should  they  save  their  distance  ? ' 
Here  is  this  unshackled  runner's  own  start :  — 

M.   You,  Tityro,  lolling  'neath  the  spreading  beech, 
Muse  on  your  slender  straw  the  sylvan  song. 
We  leave  our  country,  oar  sweet  meadows  quit, 
Our  country  fly.     You,  Tityro,  soft  imbowered. 
Prompt  fair  Amarilla  to  the  echoing  woods. 

T.   A  God,  Meliboee !  gave  us  these  calm  hours. 

» 

This  singular  fashion  of  manipulating  proper  names 
runs  through  the  book,  and  is  indeed  one  of  its  chief 


xxvi    ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

characteristics.  Thus  we  have  Daphny,  Alexy,  Mop- 
sy,  Phill}^,  Lycid  (a  name  which  may  perhaps  show 
that  Mr.  Andrews  conceived  himself  only  to  be  taking 
a  Miltonic  liberty) ,  Thyrse,  Menalca,  Paleme,  Cloanth, 
Helnor  and  Lyke  (for  Helenor  and  Lycus),  Mezente, 
and  Jutna  (for  Juturna) . 

In  1767  was  published  '  The  ^neid  of  Virgil,  trans- 
lated into  Blank  Verse  by  Alexander  Strahan,  Esq.,' 
who  had  already  twice  before  attempted  portions  of  the 
poem.  He  professes  to  have  '  kept  as  close  to  his 
author  as  the  late  Dr.  Trapp  in  respect  of  his  sense, 
but  to  have  taken  a  little  more  compass  for  the  sake 
of  harmony.'  The  experiment  issues  in  lines  like  these 
('  Quae  te  tarn  laeta  tulerunt,'  '^n.'  i.  605)  :  — 

What  happy  ages  gave  you  to  the  world  ? 

What  parents  such  perfection  could  produce  ? 

While  to  their  mother  sea  the  rivers  flow, 

While  mountains  cast  their  spreading  shadows  round, 

While  ^ther  feeds  the  stars,  your  sacred  name, 

Your  bright  idea  shall  for  ever  last, 

Where'er  my  fate  may  bear  me  o'er  the  globe. 

The  Tenth  and  Twelfth  Books  were  contributed  by 
Dobson,  the  same  who  gave  a  Latin  dress  to  the  '  Para- 
dise Lost.' 

More  than  thirty  years  remained  to  the  end  of  the 
century ;  but  it  was  not  till  1794  that  another  blank 
verse  translator  of  Virgil  showed  himself.  This  was 
the  Rev.  James  Beresford,  Fellow  of  Merton  College, 
otherwise  known  as  the  author  of  a  popular  jeu  d^ esprit 
called  the  '  Miseries  of  Human  Life,'  and  of  a  less 
successful  polemic  against  Calvinism.  Cowper's  '  Ho- 
mer '  had  recently  appeared,  and  had  been  recognized 
to  be,  what  it  certainly  is,  a  work  of  rare  merit ;  and 
it  was  tempting  to  try  whether  the  same  process  could 


TRANSLATIONS  IN  BLANK  VERSE,    xxvii 

not  after  all  be  made  to  answer  with  Virgil.  But 
Cowper's  success,  whatever  it  may  have  been,  was 
due,  not  to  the  theories  of  his  preface,  but  to  his 
practice  as  an  original  poet :  it  established  a  case  for 
blank  verse  as  wielded  by  Cowper,  not  as  wielded  by 
Mr.  Beresford.  As  usual,  we  give  a  specimen  of  his 
translation  ('  Tempus  erat,  quo  prima,'  '  -^n.'  11. 
268)  :  — 

'Twas  at  the  hour  when  first  oblivious  rest 

To  care-sick  mortals  comes,  and,  gift  of  gods, 

Of  all  their  gifts  best  welcome,  steals  unfelt, 

When,  as  I  slept,  before  my  eyes,  behold, 

Hector,  all  woe-begone,  appeared  to  come 

In  present  sight,  and  pour  down  copious  tears, 

As  dragged  ere  while  fast  by  the  chariot  wheels 

Sordid  with  bloody  dust,  his  big-swoln  feet 

With  thongs  transpierced.     Ah  me  I  what  seemed  he  then! 

How  from  that  Hector  changed,  who  late  returned 

Clad  in  the  glorious  spoils  of  Peleus'  son, 

Or  fresh  from  hurling  on  the  barks  of  Greece 

His  Phrygian  fires  !     Now  —  squalid  was  his  beard, 

His  locks  blood-knotted,  and  those  gashes  too 

Were  seen,  which  round  his  parent  country's  walls, 

In  fights  of  yore,  he,  numberless,  had  borne. 

Melting  in  tears,  I  seemed  to  accost  the  shade 

Spontaneous,  and  these  mournful  words  draw  forth. 

Dr.  Symmons  —  who  speaks  of  blank  verse  rather 
happily,*  as  '  only  a  laborious  and  doubtful  struggle 
to  escape  from  the  fangs  of  prose,'  adding  that,  '  if  it 
ever  ventures  to  relax  into  simple  and  natural  phrase- 
ology, it  instantly  becomes  tame,  and  the  prey  of  its 
pursuer'  —  has  passed  a  censure  which,  inapplicable 
to  Cowper,  for  whom  it  was  intended,  is  not  more  than 
a  just  description  of  what  has  been  accomplished  by 
Cowper's  Virgilian  follower. 

*  Preface  to  j^neid,  p.  22  (2d  edition). 


xxviii    ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

The  rhyming  translators  of  Virgil  during  the  eigh- 
teenth century  were  fewer,  but  they  were  men  of  more 
mark.  Some  portion  of  their  success  is  doubtless  due 
to  the  vehicle  which  they  chose.  The  heroic  couplet, 
as  managed  by  Dryden,  is  far  more  open  to  imitation 
than  the  blank  verse  of  the  '  Paradise  Lost ; '  the 
sources  of  the  pleasure  which  it  creates  lie  nearer 
to  the  surface,  and  are  more  accessible  to  an  ordinarj^ 
writer.  And  if  Dryden  is  more  imitable  than  Milton, 
Pope  is  more  imitable  than  Dr3'den.  Dryden  was  es- 
sentially capricious  :  sometimes  vigorous  and  splendid, 
at  others  flat  and  slovenly.  He  was  a  critic,  but  his 
canons  of  criticism  are  constantly  varying,  and  the 
astonishing  effects  which  he  at  times  produces  are  due 
to  ear  and  natural  instinct  rather  than  to  deliberate 
judgment.  "With  Pope,  on  the  other  hand,  all  was 
conscious  art ;  he  took  his  measure,  such  as  it  was,  of 
the  capabilities  of  the  heroic  couplet,  and  with  steady 
and  unwearied  patience  set  himself  to  realize  them  in 
his  practice ;  and  his  successors,  after  admiring  the 
marvelous  result,  might  reasonably  hope,  by  the  exer- 
tion of  moderate  powers  of  analysis,  to  attain  to  some 
notion  of  the  process.  In  or  before  1724,  after  the 
completion  of  the  English  '  Iliad,'  Benson,  celebrated 
by  Pope  as  the  admirer  of  Milton  and  Johnston's 
Psalms,  being  dissatisfied  with  the  way  in  which  Dry- 
den had  dealt  with  the  poetry  and  the  agriculture  of 
Virgil,  published  '  Virgil's  Husbandr}^ ;  or  an  Essay 
on  the  Georgics  ; '  a  version  of  the  Second  Book,  with 
explanatory  notes,  following  it  up  next  j^ear  with  a  simi- 
lar '  Essay '  on  the  First.  The  subjoined  extract, 
if  it  has  no  other  interest,  will  show,  at  an}"  rate,  that 
Pope's  influence  was  alreadj'  beginning  to  tell  ('  Nee 
requies  quin  aut  pomis,'  '  Georg.'  ii.  516)  :  — 


RETURN  TO  RHYMED   COUPLETS.       xxix 

Nor  rests  the  year,  but  still  with  fruit  abounds 
Or  vast  increase  of  herds,  or  loads  the  grounds 
With  piles  unnumbered  of  promiscuous  grain. 
Subdues  the  barns,  and  triumphs  on  the  plain. 
A  storm  descends  :  Sicyonian  berries  feel 
The  nimble  poundings  of  the  clattering  steel : 
The  falling  acorns  rustle  in  the  wood. 
And  swine  run  homeward  cheerful  with  their  food  : 
The  copse  her  wildings  gives  from  shattered  bowers, 
And  teeming  autumn  lays  down  all  her  stores. 
Whilst  high  on  sunny  rocks  the  clustered  vine 
Boils  into  juice  and  reddens  into  wine. 

A  much  more  memorable  attempt  to  beat  Dryden 
with  Pope's  weapons  was  made  by  Pitt,  who,  after 
dallying  for  some  time  with  a  new  version  of  the 
'  ^neid,'  completed  it  at  last,  and  published  it  in 
1740.  Pitt  was  intimate  with  Spence,  the  friend  of 
Pope ;  and  the  great  poet,  in  words  which  seem  not 
to  have  been  preserved,  signified  his  approval  of  an 
experiment  which  but  for  him  would  scarcely  have  been 
possible.  After  the  author's  death,  Joseph  Warton, 
a  brother  Wykehamist,  completed  the  translatian  by 
the  addition  of  the  '  Eclogues '  and  '  Georgics,'  and 
repubhshed  it  with  a  dedication  to  the  first  Lord 
Lyttelton,  in  which  he  finds  fault  with  Dryden,  and 
asserts  Pitt's  superiorit}^ :  a  judgment,  the  merits  of 
which,  as  well  as  those  of  Warton's  own  translation, 
we  hope  shortly  to  consider.  Sotheby's  version  of 
the  '  Georgics,'  the  first  edition  of  which  (1800)  is 
just  included  in  the  eighteenth  centurj',  will  come  in 
for  its  share  of  notice  most  appropriately  at  the  same 
time.  All  three  were  conspicuously  inferior  to  Dry- 
den, but  they  were  in  some  sense  foemen  worthy  of 
his  steel,  and  it  is  well  that  they  should  have  an  op- 
portunity of  exhibiting  themselves   along  with  him. 


XXX    ENGLISH   TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

We  have  been  in  some  doubt  whether  to  reserve  our 
judgment  of  Beattie's  '  Eclogues ;  *  but  a  comparison 
of  his  translation  with  Dr3Tlen's  and  Warton's,  by  a 
favorable  though  not  undiscriminating  judge,  is  included 
in  his  Life  bj'  Sir  William  Forbes,  and  may  be  con- 
sulted there.  The  translation  seems  not  to  have  been 
greatly  valued  by  the  author,  who  apparently  did  not 
reprint  it,  nor  is  it  to  be  found  in  all  collections  of  his 
poems.  In  his  original  compositions  Beattie  is  pleas- 
ing rather  than  vigorous,  and  this  is  very  much  the 
character,  both  positivel}'  and  negatively,  of  his  trans- 
lation, which  is  freely  executed,  and  contains  at  least 
as  much  of  the  author  as  of  his  Latin  model.  The 
following  lines  will  exhibit  at  once  his  better  and  his 
worse  qualities  ('  Muscosi  fontes,*  &c.  '  Eel.'  vii. 
45):  — 

Corydon.    Ye  mossy  fountains,  warbling  as  ye  flow, 
And,  softer  than  the  slumbers  ye  bestow. 
Ye  grassy  banks !  ye  trees  with  verdure  crowned, 
Whose  leaves  a  glimmering  shade  diffuse  around! 
Grant  to  my  weary  flocks  a  cool  retreat. 
And  screen  them  from  the  summer's  raging  heat! 
For  now  the  year  in  brightest  glory  shines, 
Now  reddening  clusters  deck  the  bending  vines. 

Thyrsis.     Here 's  wood  for  fuel :  here  the  fire  displays 
To  all  around  its  animating  blaze ; 
Black  with  continual  smoke  our  posts  appear, 
Nor  dread  we  more  the  rigour  of  the  year 
Than  the  fell  wolf  the  fearful  lambkins  dreads 
When  he  the  helpless  fold  by  night  invades, 
Or  swelling  torrents,  headlong  as  they  roll, 
The  weak  resistance  of  the  shattered  mole. 

The  one  other  translator  of  the  eighteenth  century 
whose  work  has  fallen  in  our  way,  is  a  Mr.  John  Theo- 
bald, whose  '  Second  Book  of  Virgil's  iEneid,  in  Four 


TRANSLATIONS  OF  THE  V^th  CENTURY,  xxxi 

Cantos,  with  Notes '  —  a  handsome  quarto  —  bears  no 
date,  but  has  the  appearance  of  having  been  published 
some  time  after  the  middle  of  the  centur}^  His  lines 
are  such  as  Surrey  or  Phaer  would  doubtless  have 
envied  for  their  smoothness  and  finish  ;  but  a  reader 
of  the  present  da3^  will  hardlj'  regret  that  the  four  can- 
tos were  not  extended  to  forty-eight. 

The  course  of  Virgilian  translation  in  the  nineteenth 
century  is  as  illustrative  of  the  general  literary  history 
of  the  period  as  the  corresponding  phase  in  the  eigh- 
teenth. In  the  first  thirty  years  several  translations 
appeared,  marked  more  or  less  b}'  the  characteristics 
of  the  preceding*  century :  since  that  time,  the  old 
notion  of  translation  —  that  which  aims  at  substituting , 
a  pleasing  English  poem  for  an  admired  original  — 
has  been  well-nigh  abandoned,  and  experiments  as 
multiform  as  those  practiced  by  the  Elizabethan  schol- 
ars and  poets  have  become  the  order  of  the  da}'.  We 
are  reminded,  not  of  Dryden  or  Warton,  but  of  Webbe, 
Fleming,  and  Stanyhurst.  These  revolutionary  aspects 
constitute  a  new  division  of  our  subject,  and  call,  in 
fact,  for  a  separate  discussion.  Of  the  translations 
that  remain,  by  far  the  most  considerable  is  the  '  ^neis  * 
of  Dr.  Symmons,  which  appeared  in  1816,  and  was 
reprinted  in  1820.  It  is  worth  reserving  for  further 
notice,  and  we  reserve  it  accordingly. 

The  only  other  attempt  we  need  mention  is  the  ver- 
sion of  the  '  Eclogues  *  made  about  1830  by  Archdea- 
con Wrangham,  an  accomplished  scholar  and  versifier, 
whose  name  has  not  yet  died  out  of  remembrance. 
His  lines  are  elegant,  but  artificial  and  involved ;  they 
show  the  man  of  taste,  not  the  genuine  poet  or  the 
master  of  vigorous  English.  Take  the  end  of  the 
'  PoUio '  ('  Aggredere,  O  magnos,'  '  Eel.'  iv.  48)  :  — 


xxxii    ENGLISH   TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL.   : 

These  honours  thou  —  'tis  now  the  time  —  approve, 
Child  of  the  skies,  great  progeny  of  Jove ! 
Beneath  the  solid  orb's  vast  convex  bent, 
See  on  the  coming  year  the  world  intent : 
See  earth  and  sea  and  highest  heaven  rejoice  : 
All  but  articulate  their  grateful  voice. 

O  reach  so  far  my  long  life's  closing  strain ! 
My  breath  so  long  to  hymn  thy  deeds  remain! 
Orpheus  nor  Linus  should  my  verse  excel, 
Though  even  Calliope  her  Orpheus'  shell 
Should  string,  and  (anxious  for  the  son  the  sire) 
His  Linus'  numbers  Phoebus  should  inspire ! 
Should  Pan  himself  before  his  Arcady 
Contend,  he'd  own  his  song  surpassed  by  me. 

Know  then,  dear  Boy,  thy  mother  by  her  smile : 
Enough  ten  months  have  given  of  pain  and  toil. 
Know  her,  dear  Boy,  —  who  ne'er  such  smile  has  known, 
Nor  board  nor  bed  divine  'tis  his  to  own. 

Thus  far  we  have  seen  what  has  been  accomplished 
by  the  different  translators  of  Virgil,  down  to  a  few 
3^ears  from  the  time  at  which  we  are  now  Writing. 
Their  object,  in  general,  has  been,  as  we  said  just  now, 
to  substitute  a  pleasmg  English  poem  for  an  admired 
original.  This  being  the  case,  it  was  naturally  to  be 
expected  that  the  one  who  happened  to  be  the  best 
English  poet  should  be  the  best  translator.  Perhaps 
it  might  be  necessary  to  stipulate  that  there  should  be 
some  similarity  between  the  genius  of  the  poet  trans- 
lating and  that  of  the  poet  translated.  A  '  Virgil '  by 
Shelley  would  have  been  un-Virgilian,  though  scarcely 
more  so  than  Pope's  '  Homer '  is  un-Homeric  ;  but  where 
any  scope  is  given  for  the  exhibition  of  native  poetical 
power,  a  true  poet,  however  careless,  is  sure  to  please 
more  than  the  most  fastidiously  elegant  versifier.  And 
this  is  just  what  has  happened.  "Whatever  a  few  crit- 
ics may  have  thought  and  said,  Dryden^s  js  the  only 


THE   TRUE  POETS  OWN  STYLE,      xxxiii 

English  '  Virgil '  of  which  the  bulk  of  English  readers 
know  anj^thing. 

It  is  doubtless  true,  as  a  critical  theory,  that  a  trans- 
lator ought  to  endeavor  not  onl}^  to  say  what  his  author 
has  said,  but  to  say  it  as  he  has  said  it.  In  the  greatest 
writers,  thought  and  language  may  possibly  be  distin- 
guished, but  can  scarcel}^  be  dissociated.  Every  true 
poet  has  a  style  of  his  own :  a  st^^le  which  probably 
forms  half  of  what  makes  him  please,  and  more  than 
half  of  that  which  makes  him  remembered.  And  if 
this  be  true  of  other  writers,  it  is  especially  true  of 
Virgil.  He  has  chosen  to  trust,  as  scarcely  any  one 
else  has  done,  to  expression  —  to  the  preference  not 
merely  of  one  word  to  another,  but  of  one  arrange- 
ment of  words  to  another.  He  insinuates  new  thoughts 
through  the  medium  of  apparent  tautologies ;  he  calls 
in  old  phrases,  recasts  them,  and  produces  new  effects. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  few  of 
the  translators  of  Virgil  have  trusted  to  themselves 
so  entirely  as  Dryden.  He  worked  hurriedly  and 
under  pressure ;  he  was  hardly  likel}'  to  be  more  at- 
tentive to  his  author's  language  than  in  his  original 
compositions ;  nay,  the  very  vigor  of  his  genius  re- 
quired that  he  should  abandon  himself  to  his  own  im- 
pulses and  express  himself  in  his  own  way.  He  was 
constantly  adding  to  his  original,  and  that  in  the  most 
willful  and  reckless  manner.  There  were  elements  in 
his  nature  peculiarly  repugnant  to  the  Virgilian  ideal, 
and  those  elements  he  was  at  no  great  pains  to  conceal. 
When  he  chose  he  could  be  not  only  careless  and 
slovenl}^,  but  offensively  coarse  and  vulgar,  and  he  is 
so  *in  his  '  Virgil '  a  hundred  times.  From  the  very 
first  he  made  himself  fair  game  for  his  rivals  and  crit- 
ics, and  they  have  taken  their  full  advantage.  From 
c 


xxxiv    ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

Milbourne  and  Trapp  down  to  the  Messrs.  Kennedy, 
every  aspiring  translator  has  been  able  to  quote  a  long 
list  of  passages  where  Dryden  has  failed  grossly,  and 
has  argued  in  consequence  that  a  true  translation  of 
Virgil  has  yet  to  be  made.  Yet  their  case,  as  we  ven- 
ture to  think,  easily  proved  in  theory,  has  uniformly 
broken  down  in  practice.  The  fact  is,  that  what  they 
have  proved  has  been  proved  not  merely  against  Dr}^- 
den,  but  against  themselves.  The  question  of  fidelity 
of  rendering,  in  the  case  of  a  writer  like  Virgil,  can 
hardly  be  made  one  of  degree.  It  is  idle  to  discuss 
who  has  come  nearest  to  the  st^^le  and  language  of 
Virgil,  when  no  one  has  come  within  any  appreciable 
distance.  A  blank  versifier  may  flatter  himself  that 
he  can  do  more  than  a  rhymer,  but  it  will  probably 
be  because  he  is  less  capable  of  producing  something 
which  may  be  read  with  pleasure  as  an  original  poem. 
The  rh3'mers,  at  an}'  rate,  are  placed  iipso  facto  on 
terms  of  virtual  equalit}^  so  far  as  resemblance  to  Vir- 
gil's manner  is  concerned.  The}^  are  compelled  to 
sacrifice  all  that  makes  that  manner  what  it  is,  and 
the  one  thing  that  the  public  has  to  care  for  is  the 
goodness  or  badness  of  the  substitute  they  oflfer. 
Here  it  is  that  Drj^den's  greatness  comes  out.  Com- 
pare him  with  other  translators,  and  it  will  be  seen 
that  while  none  of  them  have  anj'thing  of  Virgil's  indi- 
viduality, he  alone  has  an  individuality  of  his  own  of 
sufficient  mark  to  interest  and  impress  the  reader. 
Let  us  make  our  meaning  clear  by  an  instance  or  two. 
We  will  take  four  lines  near  the  opening  of  the  First 
JEneid,  and  see  how  the}"  have  been  dealt  with  by  the 
chief  rhyming  translators  :  —  » 

Musa,  mihi  causas  memora,  quo  numine  laeso, 
Quidve  dolens  regina  DeClm  tot  volvere  casus 


TRANSLATORS  COMPARED.  xxxv 

Insignem  pietate  virum,  tot  adire  labores 
Impulerit.     Tantaene  animis  gaelestibus  irae? 

Dryden. 

O  Muse !  the  causes  and  the  crimes  relate ; 

What  goddess  was  provoked,  and  whence  her  hate ; 

For  what  offence  the  queen  of  heaven  began 

To  persecute  so  brave,  so  just  a  man, 

Involved  his  anxious  life  in  endless  cares, 

Exposed  to  want  and  hurried  into  wars. 

Can  heavenly  minds  such  high  resentment  show, 

Or  exiercise  their  spite  in  human  woe  ? 

Pitt. 

Say,  Muse,  what  causes  could  so  far  incense 
Celestial  powers,  and  what  the  dire  offence 
That  moved  heaven's  awful  empress  to  impose 
On  such  a  pious  prince  a  weight  of  woes, 
Exposed  to  dangers,  and  with  toils  opprest. 
Can  rage  so  fierce  inflame  a  heavenly  breast  ? 

Symmons. 

Speak,  Muse !  the  causes  of  effects  so  great : 

What  god  was  wronged?  or  why,  incensed  with  hate', 

Should  Heaven's  high  queen  with  toils  on  toils  confound 

The  man  for  piety  to  heaven  renowned, 

And  urge  him  with  a  ceaseless  tide  of  ills? 

Ah!  can  such  passions  goad  celestial  wills? 

Here,  if  we  make  it  a  question  of  degrees,  there  is 
doubtless  much  to  be  urged  against  Dryden,  who  has 
expanded  into  eight  lines  what  the  others  have  been 
content  to  express  in  six,  and  a  closer  pressure,  such 
as  Sotheb}'  occasionally^  practiced,  might  possibly  have 
reduced  to  four.  But  if  we  look  closely  at  the  original, 
we  shall  see  that  its  peculiar  characteristics  have  really 
been  preserved  b}^  none  of  the  three.     Which  of  them 


xxxvi    ENGLISH   TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

gives  any  conception  of  the  Virgilian  rhythm  ?  and  yet 
what  would  a  passage  of  Virgil  be  without  this  ?  Who 
has  imitated  the  peculiarity  of  '  quo  numine  laeso '  — 
that  expression  which  still  continues  to  be  the  crux  of 
commentators  ?  Or,  if  it  be  thought  too  much  to  expect 
that  a  translator  should  adumbrate  what  no  annotator 
has  succeeded  in  fixing,  what  have  we  in  any  of  the 
three  to  represent  that  most  Virgilian  of  phrases  —  half- 
inverted,  half-direct  —  'tot  volvere  casus'?  Dryden 
has  '  involved  ; '  Pitt  talks  of  '  a  weight  of  woes  ; '  S3^m- 
mons  of  '  confounding  with  toils  on  toils  ; '  but  none  of 
these  is  what  Virgil  has  said,  though  any  of  them  will 
serve  to  express  roughly  what  he  meant.  Looking  to 
Virgil's  general  meaning,  we  see  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  it  is  fairl}^  conveyed  by  4)ryden's  eight  lines  — 
eight  lines  which  seem  to  us  the  ver}^  perfection  of  clear 
unaffected  musical  English.  It  is  needless  to  compare 
them  in  detail  with  those  of  Pitt  and  Symmons ;  they 
are  obviously  such  as  only  a  master  like  Dryden  could 
have  written :  — 

Haec  miscere  nefas  :  nee  eura  sis  eetera  fossor, 
Tres  tantum  ad  numeros  Satyrum  moveare  Bathylli. 

The  same  easy  strength  is  observable  throughout 
Dryden's  version  of  the  '  Georgics.'  Even  where  it  is 
evident  that  he  is  not  putting  forth  his  full  power,  he 
will  generally  be  found  to  distance  his  competitors. 
Let  us  try  them  in  a  tolerably  simple  passage  from  the 
Second  Book  (v.  362)  ;— 

Ae  dum  prima  novis  adolescit  frondibus  aetas, 
Pareendum  teneris  :  et  dum  se  laBtus  ad  auras 
Palmes  agit,  laxis  per  purum  immissus  habenis. 
Ipsa  acies  nondum  falcis  tentanda,  sed  uncis 
Carpendae  manibus  frondes  interque  legendae. 


DRYDEN'S  SUPERIORITY.  xxxvii 

Inde  ubi  jam  validis  amplexse  stirpibus  almos 
Exierint,  turn  stringe  comas,  turn  brachia  tonde : 
Ante  reformidant  ferrum  :  turn  denique  dura 
Exerce  imperia,  et  ramos  compesce  fluentes. 

Dryden. 

But  in  their  tender  nonage,  while  they  spread 
Their  springing  leaves,  and  lift  their  infant  head, 
And  upward  while  they  shoot  in  open  air. 
Indulge  their  childhood,  and  the  nursling  spare : 
Nor  exercise  thy  rage  on  new-born  life, 
But  let  thy  hand  supply  the  pruning-knife, 
And  crop  luxuriant  stragglers,  nor  be  loth 
To  strip  the  branches  of  their  leafy  growth. 
But  when  the  rooted  vines  with  steady  hold 
Can  grasp  their  elms,  then,  husbandman,  be  bold 
To  lop  the  disobedient  boughs,  that  strayed 
Beyond  their  ranks  :  let  crooked  steel  invade 
The  lawless  troops  which  discipline  disclaim. 
And  their  superfluous  growth  with  rigour  tame. 

Warton. 

The  new-born  buds,  the  tender  foliage  spare  : 

The  shoots  that  vigorous  dart  into  the  air, 

Disdaining  bonds,  all  free  and  full  of  life, 

O  dare  not  wound  too  soon  with  sharpened  knife ! 

Insert  your  bending  fingers,  gently  cull 

The  roving  shoots,  and  reddening  branches  pull. 

But  when  they  clasp  their  elms  with  strong  embrace, 

Lop  the  luxuriant  boughs,  a  lawless  race  : 

Ere  this  they  dread  the  steel :  now,  now  reclaim 

The  flowing  branches,  the  bold  wanderers  tame. 

SOTHEBY. 

When  the  new  leaf  in  Spring's  luxuriant  time 
Clothes  the  young  shoot,  oh !  spare  its  tender  prime : 
And  when  the  gadding  tendril  wildly  gay 
Darts  into  air  and  wantons  on  its  way, 


xxxviii    ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

Indulgent  yet  the  knife's  keen  edge  forbear. 
But  nip  the  leaves,  and  lighten  here  and  there : 
But  when  in  lusty  strength  the  o'ershadowing  vine 
Clings  with  strong  shoots  that  all  the  elm  entwine, 
Range  with  free  steel,  exert  tyrannic  sway, 
Lop  the  rank  bough,  and  curb  the  exuberant  spray. 

As  usual,  Drj^den  allows  himself  more  license  than 
the  rest,  and  his  freedom  has  led  him  into  a  misconcep- 
tion of  the  meaning  of  the  first  sentence,  which  the 
other  two,  owing  to  their  greater  fidelit}^  avoid,  or 
appear  to  avoid.  He  confuses  the  earliest  stage,  when 
the  leaves  are  not  to  be  touched  at  all,  with  the  second, 
when  they  are  not  to  be  touched  b}"  the  pruning-hook. 
But  in  spite  of  this,  and  in  spite  of  the  general  latitude 
of  his  rendering,  we  are  mistaken  if  our  readers  fail  to 
perceive  his  great  superiorit}'.  Sotheby  keeps  much 
closer  to  Virgil,  but  it  is  a  closeness  bj  which  we  set 
very  little  store,  failing,  as  it  does,  to  bring  out  the 
chief  points  of  his  author's  language,  — the  '  laxis  per 
purum  immissus  habenis,'  and  even  the  '  tum  —  tum  — 
tum  denique.'  The  military  metaphor  in  Dryden's  last 
lines  may  seem  rather  a  bold  expansion  of  '  dura  exerce 
imperia  ; '  but  it  is  thoroughl^^  in  the  spirit  of  the  origi- 
nal. Every  line  of  Virgil  shows  that  he  regarded  the 
vine-branch  as  a  living  thing ;  that  is  the  key-note  of 
the  paragraph,  and  no  one  has  seen  this  so  clearlj^  or 
brought  it  out  so  vividly  as  Dr3'den.     * 

Our  judgment  then  is,  that  Pitt  and  Warton,  Sym- 
mons  and  Sotheby,  fail  as  translators  preciselj'  because 
the}'  fail  as  original  poets.  The}'  cannot  help  being 
more  or  less  original,  substituting,  that  is,  their  own 
mode  of  expression  for  Virgil's  ;  and  their  originality^  is 
comparatively  uninteresting.  The}'  are  not  great  poets, 
but  simply  accomplished  versifiers.      Each  has  his  own 


TRANSLATORS  COMPARED,         xxxix 

merits  ;  each  shows  his  weakness  in  his  own  w^a}^  Pitt 
wrote  with  the  echoes  of  Pope  in  his  ears,  and  may  re- 
mind his  readers  of  the  English  '-  Homer '  as  long  as 
they  have  not  the  English  'Homer'  by  them.  Those 
who  wish  to  estimate  his  real  relation  to  his  master 
may  compare  a  translation  of  his  from  the  Twent}^- 
third  Odyssey,  printed  in  '  Pope's  Letters,'  *  with 
Pope's  own.  His  chief  fault  is  a  general  mediocritj^  of 
expression:  a  monotonous  level,  which  is  neither  high 
poetr}^  nor  good  prose.  Dryden's  narrative  is  easy  andj 
straightforward ;  Pitt's  indefinite  and  conventional.! 
He  has,  as  it  were,  a  certain  cycle  of  rhymes  which 
Pope  has  made  classical,  and  he  rarely  ventures  to 
deviate  from  it.  We  open  his  translation  at  random, 
glance  down  a  page,  and  find  the  couplets  end  as  fol- 
lows:  Tyre^  fi^e;  rounds  crowned,  joy^  Troy;  Jiour, 
o'er;  grace ,  race;  gloivs,  rows;  delay,  way;  designed, 
mind;  come,  room;  inspire,  fire;  place,  race;  rest, 
addrest;  above,  Jove;  implore,  adore;  tost,  coast;  know, 
woe.  Ex  pede  Herculem,  when  w^e  see  tost  and  coast,  in- 
spire and  fire,  in  a  writer  of  the  school  of  Pope,  we  know 
pretty  well  what  the  rest  of  the  line  is  likely  to  have 
been.  One  of  Pitt's  most  enthusiastic  admirers  ob- 
serves, not  without  truth,  that  he  is  peculiarly  unfortu- 
nate in  his  versions  of  similes.  A  simile  is  one  of  those 
things  in  which  weakness  of  handling  is  most  likely  to 
come  out ;  as  managed  by  Virgil  it  is  commonly  a 
description  in  itself,  and  the  features  in  it  which  are 
not  intended  to  be  made  prominent  will  often  escape 
an  inattentive  reader.  Warton  was  heavier  and  more 
prosaic  than  Pitt,  without  being  much  less  conventional. 

*  Pitt  to  Spence  in  Pope's  Letters  (  Works^  by  Bowles,  vol. 
viii.  p.  352) .  The  Twenty-third  Book  was  translated  by  Broome, 
but  Pope  doubtless  altered  it. 


xl      ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL, 

His  ear  was  worse,  his  command  of  poetical  language 
more  restricted ;  yet  he  sighs,  in  his  dedication,  over 
the  necessity  of  using  '  coarse  and  common  words  '  in 
his  translation  of  the  '  Georgics,*  viz.  plough  and  sow, 
wheat,  dung^  ashes^  horse^  and  cow^  &c.  ;  words  which 
he  fears  ^  will  unconquerably  disgust  many  a  delicate 
reader.'  "When  Virgil  rises,  Warton  does  not  rise  with 
him  ;  his  version  of  the  '  Pollio '  and  of  the  Praises  of 
Italy  may  be  read  without  kindling  an}^  spark  of  enthu- 
siasm. Who,  with  genuine  poetry  in  his  soul,  could 
have  thus  rendered  '  Salve,  magna  parens  frugum,'  &c. 
('Georg.'  ii.  173)?  — 

#  All  hail,  Saturnian  soil !  immortal  source 
Of  mighty  men  and  plenty's  richest  stores  I 
For  thee  my  lays  inquisitive  impart 

This  useful  argument  of  ancient  art : 

For  thee  I  dare  unlock  the  sacred  spring, 

And  through  thy  streets  Ascraean  numbers  sing. 

Sotheby  and  S3'mmons  ma}^  be  contrasted  as  well  as 
paralleled  with  Warton  and  Pitt.  When  they  wrote, 
the  language  of  English  classical  poetry  had  become 
still  more  artificial,  the  structure  of  the  heroic  couplet 
still  more  conventional.  Sotheby's  '  Georgics  '  run,  in 
fact,  to  the  tune  of  the  '  Pleasures  of  Hope.'  It  would 
be  too  much  to  ascribe  any  very  direct  influence  to  a. 
poem  published  onl}'  a  year  previousl3\  Still  the  secret 
of  their  weakness  could  hardly  be  better  described  than 
in  the  words  which  Hazlitt  apphes  to  Campbell's  poem. 
'  A  painful  attention  is  paid  to  the  expression  in  pro- 
portion as  there  is  little  to  express,  and  the  decom- 
position of  prose  is  substituted  for  the  composition  of 
poetry.'  *     There  are  man}^  well-wrought  lines  ;  some- 

*  Lectures  on  the  ^English  Poets,  p.  294  (1st  edition).     Haz- 
litt censures  Rogers  —  who,  as  he  truly  says,  is  a  poet  of  the 


SOTHEBY  AND  SYMMONS.  xli 

times  we  may  find  a  whole  passage  which  has  been 
successfully  labored  ;  but  we  miss  throughout  that  per- 
vading vigor  which  works  from  within,  not  from  with- 
out—  which  expresses  itself  poeticall}-,  because  it  has 
first  learned  to  express  itself  in  English.  Nowhere 
is  the  power  of  writing  English  more  needed  than  in 
translating  the  '  Georgics.'  Even  as  it  is,  Virgil's 
didactics  are  well-nigh  crushed  under  a  load  of  orna- 
ment :  there  is  everything  to  tempt  a  translator  not  to 
say  a  plain  thing  in  a  plain  way ;  and  the  slightest 
additional  bias  in  favor  of  the  indirect  chicaneries  of 
language  is  sure  to  be  fatal.  Here  are  Sotheby's  direc- 
tions for  the  construction  of  bee-hives  ('  Ipsa  autem, 
seu  corticibus  tibi  suta  cavatis,'  &c.  '  Georg.'  iv.  33)  :  — 

Alike,  if  hollow  cork  their  fabric  form, 
Or  flexile  twigs  enclose  the  settled  swarm, 
With  narrow  entrance  guard,  lest  frosts  congeal, 
Or  summer  suns  the  melting  cells  unseal. 
Hencd  not  in  vain  the  bees  their  domes  prepare, 
And  smear  the  chinks  that  open  to  the  air, 
With  flowers  and  fucus  close  each  pervious  pore, 
With  wax  cement,  and  thicken  o'er  and  o'er. 
Stored  for  this  use  they  hive  the  clammy  dew. 
And  load  their  garners  with  tenacious  glue, 
As  birdlime  thick,  or  pitch,  that  slow  distils 
In  unctuous  drops  on  Ida's  pine-crowned  hills. 
And  oft,  'tis  said,  they  delve  beneath  the  earth, 
Hide  in  worn  stones  and  hollow  trees  their  birth : 
Aid  thou  their  toil :  with  mud  their  walls  o'erlay, 
And  lightly  shade  the  roof  with  leafy  spray. 

Every  line  here  gives  evidence  of  taste  and  refine- 
ment :  some  of  them  show  considerable  power  of  con- 
densed expression,  yet  who  would  care  to  read  page 

same  school  —  in  language  still  more  severe,  but,  with  all  its  ex- 
aggeration, not  wholly  undeserved. 


xlii       ENGLISH   TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

after  page  of  poetr3'  of  this  sort,  apart  from  the  associ- 
ations of  the  Latin?  '  Decipit  exemplar  vitiis  imita- 
bile.'  Sotheby  knew  and  felt  that  one  of  Virgil's 
greatest  charms  was  his  diction ;  he  was  doubtless 
conscious  that  his  own  strength  lay  in  elegance  of 
expression  ;  and  he  may  not  unreasonably  have  been 
led  to  believe  that  he  was  well  qualified  to  succeed  in  a 
translation  of  the  '  Georgics.'  But  though  his  '  Virgil,' 
the  task  of  his  youth,  is  very  superior  to  his  '  Homer,' 
the  labor  of  his  old  age,  not  onlj'  from  the  greater  con- 
geniality of  the  subject,  but  in  itself,  as  an  original 
poem,  few,  we  apprehend,  would  be  found  now  to 
indorse  the  opinion  expressed  by  several  of  his  contem- 
poraries, that  he  has  contrived  to  occupy  a  place  which 
the  carelessness  and  slovenliness  of  Dryden  had  left 
vacant.  One  cause  of  the  want  of  interest  with  which 
we  read  his  '  Georgics '  may  be  the  wearying  monotonj' 
^j  of  their  versification.  The  heroic  couplet  is  there  as  it 
/  passed  from  Pope  to  Darwin,  and  from  Darwin  to 
Campbell ;  but  an  unbroken  series  of  such  couplets  is 
a  poor  substitute  for  the  interwoven  harmonies  of 
Virgil.  When  a  strong  or  even  a  rough  line  is  wanted, 
Sotheby  has  no  objection  to  introducing  it,  any  more 
than  Pope  had  before  him ;  but  to  fuse  couplet  into 
couplet,  var3ing  the  cadences  till  the  entire  paragraph 
becomes  a  complex  rhythmical  whole,  was  a  gift  which 
nature  denied  him,  and  art  did  not  supply. 

Symmons  is,  as  we  have  intimated,  a  writer  of  the 
same  school  as  Sotheby,  preferable  in  some  respects, 
inferior  in  others.  Probably  he  has  not  as  many  good 
lines,  but  he  produces  less  the  effect  of  sameness :  he 
is  not  so  conventional,  but  he  is  more  of  a  pedant.  On 
the  whole,  however,  the  family  likeness  between  them 
is   considerable,   as   will  be   seen    from  the   following 


so  THEB  Y  AND  S  YMMONS.  xlUi 

extract  from  the  boat-race  in  the  Fifth  ^neid  ('  Quo 
diversus  abis,'  &c.,  v.  166)  :  — 

Why  thus,  Menoetes,  still  licentious  stray? 
Keep  to  the  rock !  be  frugal  of  the  way ! 
Gyas  again  exclaims  :  and  close  behind 
Beholds  Cloanthus  to  the  rock  inclined. 
He  'twixt  the  ship  of  Gyas  and  the  steep 
Steers  with  nice  judgment,  and  attains  the  deep : 
Then,  as  he  there  in  fearless  triumph  rides, 
From  the  late  victor  and  the  goal  he  glides. 
But  rage  and  anguish  swell  in  Gyas'  breast, 
Nor  stands  within  his  eye  the  tear  repressed. 
His  rank  forgetting,  and  the  care  he  owes 
/:  To  his  ship's  safety,  from  the  stern  he  throws 

The  tardy  master  headlong  on  the  tide, 
And  his  own  hands  the  vacant  steerage  guide. 
Become  the  pilot  and  the  captain  too, 
Landward  he  turns  the  helm  and  cheers  his  crew. 
But,  scarcely  rising  from  the  deep  at  length. 
With  his  drenched  clothes  and  age-diminished  strength, 
Menoetes  to  the  rock  with  labour  swims. 
And  on  its  sunny  forehead  dries  his  limbs. 
Him  in  his  plunge,  and  in  his  dripping  plight, 
The  Trojans  view,  diverted  at  the  sight. 
And,  as  the  briny  draught  his  breast  restores, 
Loud  peals  of  laughter  rattle  through  the  shores. 

This  is  carefully  done,  and  undoubtedly  keeps  closer 
to  the  Latin  than  Dryden's  version ;  but  it  is  not  the 
narrative  of  Virgil ;  nor  was  it  likely  to  make  the  read- 
ers of  181 6  forget  the  '  Corsair  *  and  '  Lara.' 

The  moral  which  we  would  draw  from  this  part  of 
our  criticism  is,  that  no  one  is  likely  to  attain  as  a 
poetical  translator  the  excellence  which  would  be  denied 
to  him  as  an  original  writer.  In  prose  the  case  is  dif- 
ferent, as  there  the  translator  has  to  draw  far  less  on 
his  own  powers  ;  though  even  there  it  will  be  true  that 


xliv       ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

a  man  who  is  best  able  to  express  his  own  thoughts  will 
be  best  able  —  we  do  not  say  most  willing  —  to  express 
the  thoughts  of  another.  But  the  poetical  translator  is 
really  an  original  poet ;  and  the  stream  cannot  rise 
higher  than  its  source. 

One  great  poet  there  has  been  who  once  conceived 
the  thought  of  disputing  Drj'den's  supremacy  as  a 
translator  of  the  '^neid.'  Wordsworth  saw,  as  many 
others  have  seen,  that  Dryden*s  genius  did  not  cor- 
respond to  Virgil's  —  that  there  is  no  analogy  between 
the  Latin  and  the  English  'JEneid,'  the  peculiar  charm 
of  the  one  being  different  from  the  peculiar  charm  of 
the  other ;  and  he  thought  that,  by  submitting  to  a 
more  exacting  self-criticism  than  Dr3'den's,  he  might 
produce  something  more  Virgilian.  But  he  found  him- 
self surrounded  with  difficulties.  In  his  own  mind  he 
was  convinced  that  the  proper  equivalent  to  the  hexam- 
eter of  Virgil  was  the  blank  verse  of  Milton,  which  he 
conceived  to  have  been  actually  modeled  upon  it ;  but 
he  did  not  venture  to  adopt  it,  feeling  that  a  poem  so 
/  remote  in  its  whole  complexion  from  the  S3'mpathies  of 
modern  England  would  not  be  read  with  interest  with- 
out the  obvious  attractions  of  rhjme.  He  found,  too, 
/  that  in  spite  of  the  resolution  with  which  he  had  set 
/  out,  not  to  introduce  anything  for  which  there  was  no 
warrant  in  the  original,  he  had  to  admit  the  rule  of 
compensation — a  give  and  take  principle,  conferring 
on  Virgil  some  new  beaut}^  in  return  for  having  deprived 
him  of  an  old  one.  His  sense  of  the  discouraging 
nature  of  his  task  at  last  made  him  give  it  up,  but  not 
before  he  had  accomplished  several  books.  One  or 
two  passages  from  his  translation  are  given  in  letters 
quoted  in  his  Life,  the  source  to  which  we  are  indebted 
for  the  facts  we  have  just  mentioned  ;  but  by  far  the 


WORDSWORTH  AND  DRYDEN.  xlv 

most  satisfactory  specimen  is  a  long  extract  of  one 
hundred  lines,  published  in  the  '  Philological  Museum' 
(vol.  i.  pp.  382  fol.),  to  which  he  was  induced  to  com- 
municate it  by  his  friendship  to  the  editor,  the  late 
Archdeacon  Hare.     Judging  from  this  sample,  we  in- 
cline to  think  that  he  acted  wiseh'  in  retiring  from  the 
contest.     He  may  have  had  a  more  dehcate  sense  of 
language,  and   perhaps   a   subtler   feeling   for  meter, 
than  Dryden,   but  his  own   poetical  art  was  scarcely 
equal  to  his  power  of  conception  ;  and  the  philosophical  \ 
and  reflective  character  of  his  genius,  which  could  not    \ 
but  be  impressed  on  ever}' thing  he  wrote,  was   quite     1 
unlike  the  reflectiveness  of  Virgil.     In  particular,  he     i 
wanted  that  rapidity  of  movement  which  is  absolutely"     \ 
necessary  to  an  epic  narrative,  and  which  Dryden  pos- 
sessed to   a  degree   greater  perhaps   than   any  other 
English  poet.     We  give  one  passage  —  the  one  where 
it   appears   to   us  Wordsworth   has  succeeded  best  in 
representing  what,  as  he  justl}^  observes,  Drj'den  habit- 
ually neglects,  the  peculiar  rhythm  of  his  original :  and 
we  subjoin  to  it  Dryden's  lines,  that  the  two  may  be 
compared  as  jneces  of  independent  poetry  ('  Prsecipue 
infelix,'  '^n.'  i.  712)  :  — 

Wordsworth. 

But  chiefly  Dido,  to  the  coming  ill 

Devoted,  strives  in  vain  her  vast  desires  to  fill ; 

She  views  the  gifts  :  upon  the  child  then  turns 

Insatiable  looks,  and  gazing  burns. 

To  ease  a  father's  cheated  love  he  hung 

Upon  ^neas,  and  around  him  clung : 

Then  seeks  the  queen :  with  her  his  arts  he  tries : 

She  fastens  on  the  boy  enamoured  eyes, 

Clasps  in  her  arms,  nor  weens  (0  lot  unblest  I 

How  great  a  god,  incumbent  o'er  her  breast, 


xlvi      ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

Would  fill  it  with  his  spirit.     He,  to  please 

His  Acidalian  mother,  by  degrees 

Blots  out  Sichaeus,  studious  to  remove 

The  dead  by  influx  of  a  living  love, 

By  stealthy  entrance  of  a  perilous  guest 

Troubling  a  heart  that  had  been  long  at  rest. 

Dryden. 

But,  far  above  the  rest,  the  royal  dame, 

Already  doomed  to  love's  disastrous  flame, 

With  eyes  insatiate  and  tumultuous  joy 

Beholds  the  present,  and  admires  the  boy. 

The  guileful  god  about  the  hero  long 

With  children's  play  and  false  embraces  hung : 

Then  sought  the  queen  :  she  took  him  to  her  arms 

With  greedy  pleasure,  and  devoured  his  charms. 

Unhappy  Dido  little  thought  what  guest. 

How  dire  a  god,  she  drew  so  near  her  breast. 

But  he,  not  mindless  of  his  mother's  prayer. 

Works  in  the  pliant  bosom  of  the  fair. 

And  moulds  her  heart  anew,  and  blots  her  former  care : 

The  dead  is  to  the  living  love  resigned. 

And  all  iEneas  enters  in  her  mind. 

Dryden  is  here  not  at  his  strongest ;  while  Wordsworth, 
as  we  think,  has  succeeded  better  than  in  any  other 
part  of  the  specimen.  Yet  we  should  not  wonder  if  the 
English  reader  should  like  Drj^den  best.  He  has 
fewer  delicate  touches,  and  generally  preserves  less  of 
Virgil's  manner ;  but  he  is  as  usual  easy,  vigorous,  and 
masterly  :  his  language  is  what  Wordsworth  wished  the 
language  of  poetry  to  be,  the  language  of  good  prose, 
mutatis  mutandis;  aiid  the  measure,  if  not  Virgilian, 
has  at  an}^  rate  the  same  effect  as  Virgil's,  carrying  the 
reader  along  without  anything  to  interrupt  the  sense 
of  intellectual  satisfaction. 

Here  accordingly  we  leave  the  question  of  the  trans- 


DRYDEN'S  VERSION  THE  BEST.       xlvii 

lation  of  Virgil  into  verse,  its  practice  and  its  theory. 
England,  we  think,  is  to  be  congratulated  on  the  pos- 
session of  one  really  fine  poem,  not  more  unlike  Virgil 
than  its  rivals  in  external  feature,  while  possessing  to 
an  infinitely  greater  degree  than  any  of  them  that 
*  energy  divine '  which  constitutes  the  essence  of  all 
poetry,  ancient  or  modern.  That  a  better  version  — 
one  more  Virgiiian,  and  not  less  attractive  —  might  not 
conceivably  be  produced,  we  do  not  say.  Mr.  Tenny- 
son is  yet  among  us,  and  we  would  not  presume  to 
limit  the  capabilities  of  so  great  a  master  of  language 
and  meter.  But  the  change  which  has  taken  place  in 
literary  taste  forbids  us  to  think  it  likely  that  any  great 
poet  will  ever  make  the  attempt.  The  work  of  transla- 
tion was  found  irksome  even  by  Pope ;  it  would  be 
doubly  irksome  now,  when  imitative  classical  poetry 
has  ceased  to  be  the  order  of  the  day ;  and  the  advance 
in  critical  perception,  which  has  raised  infinitely  the 
ideal  of  what  a  translation  should  be,  in  perfecting  the 
theory  has  removed  the  practice  to  an  indefinite  dis- 
tance. In  the  meantime  we  may  congratulate  ourselves 
on  the  possession  of  a  splendid  English  epic,  in  which 
most  of  the  thoughts  are  Virgil's,  and  most  of  the  lan- 
guage Dryden's. 

But  a  further  inquiry  remains  behind.  If  in  one 
sense  the  demand  for  translations  of  the  classics  has 
greatly  diminished,  in  another  it  has  increased.  The 
success  of  Mr.  Bohn's  Classical  Librar}'  —  success 
attained  against  considerable  disadvantages,  the  au- 
thors in  many  cases  being  far  from  popular,  while  the 
translators  are  not  alwaj's  absolutely  competent  —  is  a 
proof  that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  reading  public, 
for  different  reasons,  desires  to  have  the  classics  made 
accessible  in  English.    Schoolboy's  are  as  fond  of  '  clan- 


xlviii     ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

destine  refuges '  now  as  they  were  in  Trapp's  daj's : 
schoolmasters  are,  we  fanc}^  beginning  to  tolerate, 
under  certain  modifications,  what  they  cannot  extermi- 
nate, while  they  see  that  among  their  elder  pupils  at 
any  rate  the  practice  of  translation  into  English  —  one 
of  the  most  valuable  parts  of  a  classical  education  — 
may  be  greatl}'  facilitated  by  the  use  of  good  models  ; 
those  who  acquire  the  classical  languages  with  little  or 
no  help  from  masters  —  probabl}'  an  increasing  class  — 
find  the  book  a  natural  substitute  for  the  living  teach- 
er ;  and  there  is  a  large  class  of  readers  to  whom  Latin 
and  Greek  are  as  unattainable  as  Coptic,  yet  who  are 
interested  in  knowing  what  the  ancients  thought  and 
said.*  The  question.  How  may  classical  poetry  be  best 
represented  in  English?  which  had  long  been  supposed 
to  be  confined  to  the  single  issue  of  Rhyme  v.  Blank 
Verse,  has  come  in  again  for  hearing,  and  has  been 
found  to  open  into  numberless  ramifications.  The  case 
for  translation  into  prose,  once  contemptuously  dis- 
missed, has  been  brought  on  again  by  such  writers  as 
Mr.  Haj'ward,  and  has  proved  to  be  at  least  worthy  of 
discussion.  Writing  prose  is  now  prett}^  well  under- 
stood to  be  as  much  an  art  as  writing  verse  ;  and  it  is 
seen  consequentl}'  that  a  prose  translator  does  not  ipso 
facto  abandon  all  pretension  to  grace  and  elaboration 
of  style.  Blank  verse  is  cultivated  for  purposes  of 
translation,  not  by  imitators  of  Milton  and  Thomson, 

*  In  Germany,  where  translations  of  the  classics  are  far  more 
numerous  than  in  England,  as  may  he  seen  from  the  fact  that 
Seneca's  Tragedies  have  been  three  times  translated  since  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century,  the  demand  is  said  to  arise 
to  a  great  extent  from  ladies'  schools,  where  girls  are  taught  to 
read  in  the  vernacular  what  their  brothers  are  reading  in  the 
original. 


MERITS  OF  PROSE    VERSIONS.  xlix 

but  by  writers  who  wish  to  unite  the  fidelit}^  of  a  prose 
version  with  something  of  metrical  ornament.  At- 
tempts are  made  to  cut  in  between  prose  and  blank 
verse  by  the  introduction  of  a  sort  of  rhythmical  prose, 
which  again  subdivides  itself  into  prose  written  as  prose 
with  a  rhythmical  cadence,  and  irregular  verse,  rather 
rhythmical  than  metrical,  but  still  more  or  less  uniform 
in  its  structure.  Lastl3',  the  old  fashion  of  imitating 
ancient  meters  is  revived,  and  the  English  hexameter 
in  particular  is  practiced  with  an  assiduit}^  worthy  of  a 
more  promising  object,  though  as  yet  its  fanciers  seem 
scarce^  to  have  extended  their  experiments  from  Ho- 
mer to  Virgil.  This  part  of  the  subject  accordinglj- 
requires  a  few  remarks  from  us.  As  before,  we  shall 
speak  not  onh^  of  what  may  be  done,  but  of  what  has 
been  done,  holding  ourselves  absolved,  however,  by 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  as  well  as  by  the  scanti- 
ness of  our  own  knowledge,  from  saying  more  than  a 
very  few  words  on  the  antiquarian  part  of  the  question. 
A  portion  of  the  ground,  indeed,  has  been  previously 
traveled  in  what  we  said  of  the  translations  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  There  was  then  no  sharp  line  of 
demarcation  between  the  two  kinds  of  literary  activitj' 
—  that  which  aspires  to  poetical  honors,  and  that 
which  aims  at  producing  translations  for  practical  ob- 
jects. All  readers,  in  one  sense  or  another,  were  learn- 
ers ;  and  the  office  of  the  translator  was  virtually  that 
of  the  commentator,  to  give  his  countrymen  the  means 
of  entering  into  a  new  world.  But,  as  time  went  on, 
the  division  of  labor  came  in.  The  only  translation 
of  the  kind  in  the  seventeenth  century  which  we  hap- 
pen to  have  met  with,  is  entitled  '  Virgils  Eclogves, 
with  his  Booke  De  Apibus,  concerning  the  Governement 
and  Ordering  of  Bees  u  Translated  Grammatically,  and 


1  ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL, 

also  according  to  the  proprietie  of  our  English  tongue, 
so  farre  as  Grammar  and  the  verse  will  well  permit. 
Written  chiefly  for  the  good  of  Schooles,  to  be  used 
according  to  the  directions  in  the  Preface  to  the  pain- 
full Schoole-Master,  and  more  full}^  in  the  Booke  called 
Ludus  Literarius,  or  the  Grammer-Schoole,  Chap.  8. 
London,  1633.'  In  its  full  form  the  page  consists  of 
four  columns,  containing  respectively  an  analysis  of 
the  sense,  a  translation  of  the  words,  a  verbal  com- 
mentary, and  notes  on  matters  of  fact,  points  of 
rhetoric,  &c. 

What  precise  chronological  place  among  the  prose 
translators  of  Virgil  is  occupied  b}?^  Davidson  we 
cannot  say,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  has 
been  the  most  popular.  His  work  was  published  as 
earty  as  1754,  if  not  earlier,  and  it  still  continues  to  be 
reprinted,  even  Mr.  Bohn  being  content  with  present- 
ing it  to  the  world  in  a  revised  edition.  In  its  com- 
plete form  it  may  certainly  claim  the  praise  of  compre- 
hensiveness, containing,  as  it  does,  not  only  a  transla- 
tion, '  as  near  the  original  as  the  different  idioms  of  the 
Latin  and  English  languages  will  allow,'  but  '  the  Latin 
text  and  order  of  construction  on  the  same  page, 
and  critical,  historical,  geographical,  and  classical 
notes  in  English,  from  the  best  commentators,  both 
ancient  and  modern,  beside  a  very  great  number  of 
notes  entirel}^  new  ; '  a  most  ample  provision  '  for  the 
use  of  schools,  as  well  as  of  private  gentlemen,'  espe- 
cially if  we  throw  in  some  seventy-five  pages  of  prefa- 
tory matter.  Its  literary  characteristics  are  such  as 
will  sufficiently  account  for  its  success,  though  they 
are  not  of  that  rare  order  which  might  have  been 
expected  to  place  it  bej'^ond  the  reach  of  future  rivalry. 
It  keeps  fairly  close  to  the  Latin,  at  the  same  time 


DAVIDSON'S   VERSION.  li 

that  it  is  written  in  a  fluent,  respectable  English  style, 
such  as  might  easily  commend  itself  to  a  person  with- 
out much  poetical  taste  —  the  style  of  an  ordinary 
newspaper  or  of  a  Polite  Letter-writer.  Sometimes 
the  verbiage  is  too  glaringl}^  anti-poetical,  and  may 
move  even  a  prosaic  reader  to  a  smile,  as  where  '  fcede- 
ra  jungi '  is  rendered  '  the  formation  of  an  incorporative 
alliance,'  or  '  heu  miserande  puer  *  '  Ah,  youthful  ob- 
ject of  sincere  commiseration  ; '  but  in  general  there  is 
not  much  to  find  fault  with  in  the  language  as  tried  by 
an  ordinary  standard.  Here  is  Davidson's  version  of 
a  famous  passage  in  the  Sixth  -^neid  ('  Quis  te,  magne 
Cato,'  &c.,  V.  841):-— 

Who  can  in  silence  pass  over  thee,  great  Cato,  or  thee,  Cos- 
sus,  who  the  family  of  Gracchus,  or  both  the  Scipios,  those  two 
thunderbolts  of  war,  the  bane  of  Africa,  and  Fabricius,  in  low 
fortune  exalted?  or  thee,  Serranus,  sowing  in  the  furrow  which 
thine  own  hands  had  made?  Whither,  ye  Tabii,  do  ye  hurry 
rae  already  tired?  Thou  art  that  Fabius,  justly  styled  the 
greatest,  who  alone  shalt  repair  our  sinking  state  by  wise  delay. 
Others,  I  grant  indeed,  shall  with  more  delicacy  mould  the  breath- 
ing animated  brass;  from  marble  draw  the  features  to  the  life: 
plead  causes  better :  describe  with  the  astronomer's  rod  the 
courses  of  the  heavens,  and  explain  the  rising  stars  :  hut  to  rule 
the  nations  with  imperial  sway  be  thy  care,  0  Roman !  these 
shall  be  thy  arts ;  to  impose  terms  of  peace,  to  spare  the  hum- 
bled, and  crush  the  proud  stubborn  foes.  (The  italics,  which 
are  the  translator's,  represent  his  additions  to  the  original.) 

There  is  not  much  rh3'thm  here,  not  much  of  strictly 
poetical  expression,  and  no  attempt  to  preserve  the 
peculiar  character  of  Virgil's  style  ;  but  the  language  is 
such  as  an  Englishman  might  speak  or  write,  and  we 
appeal  to  the  class  to  whom  Davidson  dedicates  his 
labors,  '  those  gentlemen  who  have  the  imfaediate  care 
of  education,'  whether  that  is  not  something. 


iii       ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL, 

But  it  is  in  the  last  few  years,  as  we  intimated  a 
short  time  ago,  that  these  more  practical  and  closer 
versions  of  Virgil  have  chiefly  been  attempted. 

In  1846  Dr.  Sewell  published  a  blank  version  of  the 
'  Georgics,'  intended  as  a  help  to  teachers  and  pupils 
in  the  practice  of  translation.  His  object  is  to  make 
a  practical  protest  against  the  habit  of  bald  prosaic 
rendering  so  common  in  schools,  by  substituting  a 
mode  of  translating  which  shall  be  sharply  discrimi- 
nated from  prose,  both  in  meter  and  in  language.  For 
this  purpose  he  adopts  the  ordinary  measure  of  blank 
heroic  verse,  and  chooses  words  which  are  expresslj' 
intended  to  recall,  not  the  ordinary  conversational 
st3de  of  the  present  da^',  but  the  distinctive  phraseol- 
ogy of  the  Elizabethan  and  sixteenth-century  writers. 
In  1854  he  brought  out  a  second  edition,  in  which  the 
translation,  as  he  tells  us,  is  entirely  rewritten.  We 
have  not  the  means  of  comparing  the  two ;  but  it 
strikes  us  that,  as  usual,  second  thoughts  are  best. 
Some  expressions,  which  we  remember  as  uncouth  in 
the  first  edition,  we  are  glad  to  find  effaced  from  the 
second,  such  as  '  pacts  eterne,'  a  version  of  '  seterna 
foedera,'  now  exchanged  for  '  changeless  pacts  ; '  but 
the  fault  of  which  the  word  '  eterne '  is  a  symbol  may 
still  be  observed  —  a  tendency  to  use  words  simply 
because  they  happen  to  have  the  sanction  of  one  or 
other  of  the  great  English  poets,  without  considering 
whether  they  harmonize  \vith  the  general  style  of  the 
translation,  or  whether  the  effect  they  produce  is  anal- 
ogous to  an3^thing  in  Virgil's  own  language.  In  at- 
tempting, too,  to  bring  out  the  force  of  expressions  in 
Virgil,  Dr.  Sewell  is  too  apt  to  exaggerate  them,  as 
when  he  renders  '  magnos  canibus  circumdare  saltus,* 
'  vasty   lawns   with  hounds   to   helt^  or   '  atrse  picis  * 


SEW  ELL  AND  KENNEDY.  liii 

*  inky  pitch.'  The  following  version  of  part  of  the 
storm  in  the  First  Georgic  is,  we  think,  a  favorable 
specimen.     '  Implentur  fossae '  (v.  326)  :  — 

The  dykes  are  brimming  high,  and  hollow  floods 
Are  swelling  with  a  roar,  and  ocean  seethes 
With  steaming  friths.     The  sire  himself  of  gods, 
Throned  midst  a  night  of  storms,  launches  his  bolts 
With  red  right  hand.     Commotion,  wherewithal 
Quakes  the  huge  earth  :  fled  have  the  forest  tribes, 
And  througii  the  nations  grovelling  panic  fear 
Low  hath  laid  mortal  hearts.     With  blazing  bolt 
He  doth  or  Atho  or  lihodope  or  heights 
Ceraunian  dash  on  earth.     Peal  upon  peal 
Follow  south  blasts,  and  thickest  sheeted  showers. 
Now  groves,  now  strands,  roar  'neath  the  tempest  wild. 

The  next  version  which  we  have  to  note  is  one 
which  perhaps  in  strictness  should  have  been  men- 
tioned earlier  in  the  article,  as  it  is  professedl}"  a  blank 
version  of  the  same  sort  as  those  which  were  produced 
in  the  eighteenth  century  —  in  theory  opposed  to  Dry- 
den,  but  aiming  at  the  same  object  —  the  production  of 
a  readable  English  poem.  But,  though  the  Messrs. 
Kennedy  may  belong  rather  to  the  conservative  than 
to  the  revolutionary  school  of  translators,  we  think  we 
are  not  disparaging  their  labors  in  exhibiting  them  in 
connection  with  those  of  others,  who,  like  them,  desire 
to  adhere  to  the  letter  of  the  original,  where  such  adhe- 
rence can  be  made  not  less  poetical  than  a  deviation 
from  it.  Their  translation  shows  what  blank  verse  is 
likely  to  be  in  fairly  competent  hands  —  how  far  it  is 
likely  to  give  us  such  a  representation  of  Virgil  as  can- 
not be  attained  by  a  method  like  Dry  den's.  At  the 
same  time,  as  the  passage  which  we  intend  to  examine 
will  be  taken  from  the  part  of  the  work  performed  by 
Mr.  Kennedy  sen.,  we  may  say  at  once  that  we  think 


liv        ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

Mr.  Charles  Kennedy  the  superior  artist,  more  terse 
and  forcible  than  his  father,  without  being  less  poetical.* 
What  measure  of  absolute  success  he  has  achieved  may 
be  seen  from  the  following  passage  from  the  Fifth 
Eclogue,  V.  56,  '  Candidus  insuetum,'  &c. :  — 

New  wonders  now  fair  Daphnis  doth  behold, 
The  Olympian  threshold,  and  beneath  his  feet 
The  clouds  and  stars.     Therefore  doth  new  delight 
Exhilarate  the  woods  and  rural  scenes, 
Pan  and  the  sl\epherds,  and  the  Dryad  maids : 
Wolves  prowl  not  for  the  flock,  nor  toils  intend 
Harm  to  the  deer :  peace  gentle  Daphnis  loves. 
The  unshorn  mountains  joyful  to  the  stars 
Send  a  spontaneous  cry  :  the  rocks,  the  groves 
Unbidden  sing  :  a  God,  a  God  is  he. 

A  version  of  the  whole  of  Virgil,  on  a  plan  substan- 
tially the  same  as  Dr.  Sewell's,  has  just  been  completed 
by  his  predecessor  at  Kadley,  Mr.  Singleton,  the  first 
volume  having  been  published  in  1855.  The  chief  dif- 
ference lies  in  the  somewhat  greater  flexibility  of  the 
form,  which  is  rhjthmical  rather  than  metrical ;  but, 
even  in  this  respect,  the  two  versions  are  not  easilj^ 
distinguishable,  as,  while  Dr.  Sewell  has  not  been  con- 
cerned greatly  to  elaborate  his  blank  verse,  Mr.  Single- 
ton's is  in  reality  blank  verse  with  occasional  licenses, 
a  syllable  or  foot  being  sometimes  added  to,  sometimes 
deducted  from,  the  ordinary  heroic  standard.  Mr. 
Singleton's  theory  is  expounded,  not,  like  Dr.  Sewell's, 
in  a  short  advertisement,  but  in  a  long  and  interesting 
preface  ;  and  he  consults  further  for  the  poetical  taste 
of  his  readers  by  subjoining  in  foot-notes  parallel 
passages  '  from  British  poets  of  the  sixteenth,  seven- 

*  Mr.  Charles  Kennedy  has  since  translated  the  whole  of  Vir- 
gil on  his  own  account  (Bohn,  1861)  ;  but  we  have  no  space  to 
examine  his  version. 


DR.  HENRY'S  LABORS.  Iv 

teenth,  and  eighteenth  centuries.'  What  his  success  has 
been  we  shall  see  by  and  by ;  meantime,  we  must  men- 
tion a  translator  whom  he  has  honored  with  his  appro- 
bation—  Dr.  Henry  Owgan,  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin, 
whose  prose  version  of  the  whole  of  '  Virgil '  he  classes 
with  Dr.  Isaac  Butt's  prose  version  of  the  '  Georgics ' 
as  '  very  far  the  most  poetical '  of  all  those  which  he 
has  had  an  opportunity^  of  seeing.  Dr.  Butt's  we  have 
unfortunatel}^  been  unable  to  procure.  To  Dr.  Owgan's 
we  shall  return  presently'.  Last  on  the  list,  though 
not  last  in  order  of  time,  comes  a  translation  of  the 
First  Six  Books  of  the  '^neid/  by  Dr.  James  Henry, 
also  an  Irishman,  under  the  quaint  title  of  '  Six  Photo- 
graphs of  the  Heroic  Times.'  This  work  again  is  not 
metrical,  but  rhythmical,  its  peculiarity  being  that  the 
rhythm  is  changed  from  time  to  time  to  suit  the  trans- 
lator's convenience,  pages  of  trochaic  time  being  suc- 
ceeded by  others  where  anapaests  are  predominant,  and 
these  again  by  ordinary  blank  verse,  a  measure  which 
is  preserved  through  the  whole  of  the  Fourth  Book. 
The  translator  had  made  many  experiments  before  he 
satisfied  himself;  and  this  somewhat  heterogeneous 
assemblage  of  varieties  is  the  result.  If  we  cannot 
praise  it  very  highly,  we  are  glad  to  be  able  to  add 
that  Dr.  Henry's  labors  have  been  far  more  successful 
in  another  part  of  the  Virgilian  field.  About  the  same 
time  with  his  translation  appeared  a  commentary  on 
the  same  portion  of  the  '^neid,'  to  which  he  has 
given  a  title  not  less  quaint  — '  Notes  of  a  Twelve 
Years'  Voyage  of  Discover}^  in  the  First  feix  Books  of 
Virgil's  uEneis '  —  a  work  which,  though  somewhat 
cumbrous  in  its  form,  and  disfigured  by  too  frequent 
an  obtrusion  of  the  author's  individuality,  contains  a 
very  great  deal  that  appears  to  us  at  once  new  and 


Ivi        ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL, 

true.  A  writer  who  has  shown  himself  one  of  the 
best  commentators  on  Virgil's  poem  need  not  repine 
that  he  has  not  the  additional  honor  of  being  one  of  its 
best  translators. 

We  are  now  in  a  position  to  test  these  different  modes 
of  translation  by  a  comparison  of  some  of  their  re- 
sults. Let  us  take  a  passage  from  the  Second  ^neid, 
that  in  which  the  bursting  of  the  Greeks  into  Priam's 
palace  is  described  with  so  much  power  and  energy. 
We  give  the  Latin,  as  our  intention  is  to  scrutinize 
closel}^  the  conformity  of  the  translations.  Our  list  will 
be  headed  by  an  extract  from  Trapp,  of  w^hom  we 
promised  to  speak  again :  — 

Fit  via  vi :  rumpunt  aditus,  primosque  trucidant 
Immissi  Danai,  et  late  loca  milite  complent. 
Non  sic  aggeribus  ruptis  cum  spumeus  amnis 
Exiit,  oppositasque  evicit  gurgite  moles, 
Fertur  in  arva  furens  cumulo,  camposque  per  omnes 
Cum  stabulis  armenta  trahit.     Vidi  ipse  furentem 
Caede  Neoptolemum,  geminosque  in  limine  Atridas  : 
Vidi  Hecubam,  centumque  nurus,  Priamumque  per  aras 
Sanguine  foedantem  quos  ipse  sacraverat  ignes. 
Quinquaginta  illi  thalami,  spes  tanta  nepotum, 
Barbarico  postes  auro  spoliisque  superbi, 
Procubuere.     Tenent  Danai  qua  deficit  ignis. 

w.  494—505. 
Trapp. 

A  spacious  breach 
Is  made  :  the  thronging  Greeks  break  in,  then  kill 
The  first  they  meet,  and  with  armed  soldiers  crowd 
The  rich  apartments.     With  less  rapid  force 
A  foamy  river,  when  the  opposing  dams 
Are  broken  down,  rolls  rushing  o'er  the  plain, 
And  sweeping  whirls  the  cattle  with  their  folds. 
These  eyes  saw  Pyrrhus  raging,  smeared  with  gore, 
And  both  the  Atridae  in  the  entrance  storm, 
Amidst  a  hundred  daughters  saw  the  queen, 


FIVE    VERSIONS  COMPARED,     *       Ivii 

And  Priam  on  the  altars  with  his  blood 

Pollute  those  hallowed  fires,  which  he  himself 

Had  consecrated.     Fifty  bridal  rooms, 

So  great  their  hopes  of  numerous  future  heirs, 

The  posts,  with  trophies  and  barbaric  gold 

Magnificent,  lay  smoking  on  the  ground : 

Where  the  flames  fail,  the  Greeks  supply  their  place. 

Kennedy. 

An  ingress  made  by  force, 
The  Greeks  admitted  slay  the  first  they  meet, 
And  crowd  the  places  all  around  with  troops. 
Not  with  such  rage  a  river  pours  o'er  lands 
A  swollen  flood,  and  herds  with  stalls  bears  down 
Through  all  the  plains  when  it  has  burst  away 
From  broken  banks,  and  with  a  foamy  whirl 
O'ercome  opposing  mounds.     These  eyes  beheld 
Pyrrhus  with  slaughter  rage,  and  at  the  gates 
The  two  Atridae.     Hecuba  I  saw. 
Wives  of  her  sons  a  hundred,  and  at  shrines 
Priam  the  king,  defiling  with  his  blood 
The  fires  which  he  himself  had  sacred  made. 
The  fifty  bridal  chambers,  wliich  had  raised 
Hopes  of  a  long  posterity,  their  posts. 
Proud  with  barbaric  gold  and  spoils,  fall  down. 
Greeks  plant  their  footsteps  where  the  flames  relent. 

Singleton. 

A  way  is  made  by  force  :  the  Greeks  poured  in, 

Burst  passage,  and  the  foremost  massacre, 

And  wide  with  soldiery  the  places  fill. 

Not  so  [resistless]  when  from  bursten  dams 

The  foamy  river  hath  escaped  away, 

And  mastered  in  its  eddy  barrier  mounds, 

'Tis  carried  in  a  pile  upon  the  tilths 

In  frenzy,  and  throughout  the  champaigns  all 

The  cattle  with  their  cotes  it  sweepeth  off. 

I  Neoptolemus  beheld  myself 

Raving  with  butchery,  and  in  the  gate 


Iviii    ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

Atreus'  twain  sons  ;  I  Hecuba  beheld 

And  lier  one  hundred  daughters  ;  Priam  too 

Among  the  altars  staining  with  his  blood 

The  fires  which  he  himself  had  sanctified. 

Those  fifty  nuptial  couches,  hope  so  great 

Of  children's  children,  doors  with  foreign  gold 

And  trophies  haught,  down  tumbled  to  the  earth. 

Possess  the  Danai  where  fails  the  flame. 

OWGAN. 

A  path  is  cleared  by  force :  the  thronging  Greeks  force  their 
way  and  massacre  the  foremost,  and  fill  the  open  space  with 
soldiers.  Not  so  resistless  the  foaming  torrent,  when  it  o'er- 
flows  its  broken  banks  and  washes  down  with  its  flood  the  ob- 
structing dams,  rushes  upon  the  fields  in  a  mass,  and  from  every 
plain  sweeps  herds  and  stalls.  I  saw  myself  Neoptolemus  rev- 
elling in  slaughter,  and  the  two  Atridas  in  the  gate :  I  saw  Hecu- 
ba and  .her  hundred  daughters-in-law,  and  Priam  amid  the  altars 
staining  with  blood  the  fires  his  hands  had  consecrated.  Those 
fifty  chambers,  so  rich  a  promise  of  descendants,  the  doorways 
rich  with  barbaric  gold,  lay  prostrate.  The  Greeks  are  masters 
where  the  fire  dies  out. 

Henry. 

Main  strength  bursts  a  passage, 
The  entrance  is  forced, 
*         In  rush  the  Danai, 

Slaughter  the  foremost, 

And  the  whole  place  with  soldiery 

Fill  far  and  wide. 

Less  furiously  the  foaming  river, 
Whose  gushing  flood  has  overcome 
And  burst  the  dam's  opposing  mass 
And  left  its  channel,  on  the  fields 
Rushes  aheap,  and  drags  along 
Cattle  and  stall  o'er  all  the  plain. 

Myself  have  seen  upon  the  threshold 
Neoptolemus  and  the  twain  Atridae, 


MINOR  POINTS  OF  CRITICISM.  lix 

Furious  and  reeking  slaughter : 
Hecuba  and  her  hundred  daughters 
Myself  have  seen,  and  midst  the  altars 
Priam  defiling  with  his  blood 
The  fires  himself  had  consecrated. 
Low  lie  those  fifty  spousal  chambers, 
So  rich  hope  of  a  teeming  offspring, 
Low  lie  those  fifty  doors  superb 
With  conquered  spoils  and  gold  barbaric : 
The  Danai  or  the  fire  have  all. 

Of  the  three  blank  versions  of  this  passage  we  in- 
cline to  put  Mr.  Singleton's  first.  It  does  not  pretend 
to  Miltonic  grandeur,  but  it  is  not  worse  versified  than 
its  rivals,  and  its  language  gains  strength  from  its 
closeness  to  the  original.  ••  Tilths,'  a  word  by  which 
he  pregnantly  renders*  '  arva,'  is  quaint;  but  it  is  im- 
portant here  that  we  should  conceive  of  the  fields  as 
tilled,  so  we  prefer  it  to  Mr.  Kennedy's  '  lands,'  or  the 
simple  '  fields  '  of  other  translators.  '  I  Neoptolemus 
beheld  myself  is  ambiguous,  and  therefore  awkward. 
*  Couches  '  is  of  course  a  mistranslation  for  '  chambers.' 
'  Possess  the  Danai  where  fails  the  flame  '  is  needlessly 
harsh,  though  it  preserves  something  of  the  epigram- 
matic character  of  the  Latin.  Trapp  perhaps  comes 
next,  as  he  has  more  rapidity  than  Mr.  Kennedy ;  and 
in  a  passage  like  this  rapidity  is  indispensable.  But 
he  has  various  shortcomings,  and  not  a  few  blemishes. 
'  Fit  via  vi,'  which  he  tells  us  in  his  note  is  no  pun,  but 
a  likeness  of  sound,  which  sounds  prettily,  he  practi- 
cally slurs  over  altogether.  *  The  rich  apartments  '  is 
a  poor  substitute  for  '  loca,'  and  '  late '  is  left  out. 
The  simile  is  shortened  by  being  stripped  of  two 
pieces  of  Virgilian  iteration,  '  aggeribus  ruptis'  being 
fused  with  '  oppositas  evicit  gurgite  moles,'  and  '  cam- 
pos  per  omnes '  dropped  after  '  in  arva.'     '  Nepotum,' 


Ix       ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF  VIRGIL. 

which  is  meant  especially  to  fix  our  thoughts  on  Priam 
and  Hecuba,  is  lost  in  the  generality  of  '  numerous 
future  heirs,'  and  the  precise  meaning  of  '  spes  tanta  * 
apparently  misunderstood.  '  Raging,  smeared  with 
gore,'  is  very  far  from  '  furentem  csede,'  which  is  best 
rendered  by  Mr.  Singleton's  '  raving  with  butcher3^' 
Mr.  Kennedy  seems  to  us  to  fail  in  strength  through- 
out. He  is  injudicious  in  his  management  of  the 
simile,  reversing  the  order  of  the  clauses,  so  as  to  put 
the  triumph  of  the  torrent  in  the  foreground,  and  its 
struggle  with  obstacles  afterwards ;  whereas  Virgil  evi- 
dently intended  us  to  pause  a  while  on  the  struggle, 
like  the  torrent  itself,  and  then  to  hurry  along  —  like 
the  torrent  itself,  stronger  for  the  delay.  '  These 
ej^es  beheld '  should  not  have  been  exchanged  for  '  I 
saw,'  thus  ignoring  Virgil's  emphatic  repetition  of 
*  vidi.'  'Which  had  raised  hopes  of  a  long  posterit}^' 
is  not  poetr}",  but  prose.  '  Fall  down '  does  not  give 
the  force  of  the  perfect  '  procubuere.*  '  Greeks  plant 
their  footsteps  where  the  flames  relent'  is  pointless 
where  point  is  wanted :  '  plant  their  footsteps '  does 
not  answer  to  '  tenent,'  nor  '  relent '  to  '  deficit.' 

Dr.  Owgan's  translation  is  respectable,  but  there  is 
nothing  in  it  which  can  be  called  striking ;  and  the 
exact  force  of  the  Latin  is  not  always  given  any  more 
than  in  the  metrical  versions.  '  Open  space '  is  poor 
for  '  late  loca,'  which  is  doubtless  meant  to  give  us  a 
vague,  illimitable  notion  of  the  royal  palace.  '  O'er- 
flows '  and  '  washes  down '  miss  the  tense,  which  Virgil 
evidently  meant  to  discriminate  from  that  of  *  fertur ' 
and  '  trahit.'  Nor  does  '  washes  down '  represent  '  evi- 
cit.'  '  Herds  and  stalls '  hardly  gives  the  sense  of  '  cum 
stabulis  armenta,'  not  indicating  the  close  connection 
between  the  two,  '  the  herds  and  their  stalls,'  or  '  herd, 


PROSE  SUPERIOR   TO  BLANK   VERSE.     Ixi 

stall,  and  all.*  '  From  every  plain '  seems  to  us  an 
unhappy  use  of  the  distributive  ;  and  we  see  no  reason 
for  changing  '  per  *  into  '  from.'  '  Descendants  '  is 
not  '  nepotum ;  *  and  whether  '  postes '  are  the  door- 
posts or  the  doors,  they  are  certainly  not  the  door- 
ways, which  could  not  have  been  '  rich  with  spoils.* 
'  Lay  prostrate  *  turns  the  perfect  into  an  aorist.  The 
best  part  of  the  version  is  the  last  sentence,  where 
*  tenent '  and  *  deficit '  are  both  well  rendered. 

Putting  aside  the  question  of  the  propriety  of  its 
Pindaric  rhythm,  we  must  allow  that  Dr.  Henry's  ver- 
sion has  its  merits.  The  first  strophe  (so  to  call  it) 
is  well  done ;  the  second  not  so  well ;  the  third  worst 
of  all.  '  M^'self  have  seen '  is,  we  think,  a  mistake,  as 
the  sense  seems  to  require  the  past,  not  the  perfect ; 
at  any  rate  we  ma}^  say  that  the  former  is  the  predomi- 
nant notion.  '  Furious  and  reeking  slaughter '  is  a 
most  unfortunate  dilution.  '  So  rich  hope  of  a  teem- 
ing oflTspring '  is  another  instance  of  blindness  to  the 
real  force  of  '  nepotum.'  '  The  Danai  or  the  fire  have 
all '  gives  the  epigram,  but  we  are  not  told,  what  Vir- 
gil certainly  intended  us  to  understand,  that  of  the 
two  enemies  the  Greeks  were  the  more  indefatigable. 

Were  it  not  for  fear  of  tiring  our  readers,  we  would 
gladly  continue  our  examination  of  these  competing 
translations,  feeling  as  we  do  that  to  produce  a  single 
passage  from  each  is  a  little  like  the  uncritical  pro- 
cedure of  the  man  who  brought  a  brick  as  a  specimen 
of  his  house.  Perhaps,  however,  we  have  quoted 
enough,  if  not  to  determine  the  rank  of  the  transla- 
tors, at  am^  rate  to  justify  our  opinion  of  the  various 
styles  which  they  have  attempted.  Not  wishing  to 
prejudge  the  success  of  any  coming  poet,  who  may 
reclaim  for  Virgil    the   rhythm   for  which  Milton   it 


Ixii      ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL. 

seems  is  indebted  to  him,  we  cannot  think  blank  verse 
well  chosen  as  a  vehicle  for  close  rendering.  It  has, 
perhaps,  its  advantages  as  an  exercise  for  boys,  who 
may  be  supposed  to  be  unacquainted  with  the  possible 
harmonies  of  poetical  prose,  and  to  be  incapable  of 
recognizing  anything  as  poetry  which  does  not  run  to 
the  eye  in  measured  lines.  But  one  who  can  really 
wield  prose  will,  we  think,  find  it  beyond  comparison 
the  better  instrument.  We  do  not  of  course  deny  that 
English  verse  per  se  is  a  better  representative  of  Latin 
verse  than  English  prose.  Mr.  Singleton  may  be  right 
in  saying,  that  if  Virgil  and  Cicero  could  be  got  to  trans- 
late Homer  closely  into  Latin,  Virgil's  translation  would 
be  the  one  we  should  prefer.  But  we  are  dealing  with 
those  who  are  neither  Virgils  nor  Ciceros,  but  simply 
men  of  culture,  with  a  good  command  over  their  own 
language,  and  a  good  eye  for  the  beauties  of  their 
author ;  and  such  men,  we  conceive,  will  do  wisely  to 
try  the  3xt  unexhausted  resources  of  prose.  Only  a 
great  master  can  handle  blank  verse  so  as  to  give 
real  pleasure  to  his  readers.  A  versifier  of  ver3'  mod- 
erate pretensions  may  write  it  with  ease,  but  no  one 
will  thank  him  for  it.  Blank  verse,  like  other  verse, 
presupposes  and  promises  a  certain  sustained  pitch 
of  poetical  elevation,  and  any  descent  from  it  is  felt 
and  resented  at  once.  Prose,  on  the  other  hand, 
promises  far  less  ;  and  anj^thing  which  it  gives  bej'ond 
its  promise  is  accepted  with  pleasure  and  surprise. 
The  indeterminate  character  of  its  rhythm,  which  does 
not  require  that  emphasis  should  be  placed  on  this  or 
that  word,  much  less  on  this  or  that  syllable,  allows 
to  admit  unhesitatingly  words  which,  if  introduced 
into  blank  verse  at  all,  would  be  felt  to  be  feeble  and 
burdensome.     The  passage  which  we  have  just  been 


ADVANTAGES  OF  PROSE,  Ixiii 

examining  supplies  an  instance  in  point.  Virgil  talks 
of  '  Hecubam  centumque  nurus.'  A  prose  translation 
need  not  shrink  from  the  word  '  daughters-in-law,'  nor 
from  the  use  of  many  words  which  embarrass  the 
writers  of  verse,  and  which,  though  essential  to  a 
lucid  representation  of  the  sense,  add  nothing  to  the 
poetical  dignity  of  the  passage.  Thus  a  vigorous 
Latin  line  is  turned  by  Mr.  Singleton  into  two  feeble 
lines  of  English :  — 

Si  qua  est  cselo  pietas  quae  talia  curet 
becomes  — 

If  any  righteousness  exist  in  heaven 
Which  may  concern  itself  about  the  like. 

If  the  writer  of  rhj^thmical  prose  cannot  be  said  to 
be  free  either  from  the  temptation  or  from  the  compul- 
sion to  expand  himself,  he  does  himself  and  his  author 
far  less  harm  by  yielding  to  them.  No  doubt,  as 
Sydne}'  Smith  said,  a  prose  style  may  often  be  greatly 
improved  by  striking  out  every  other  word  from  each 
sentence  when  written  ;  but  there  are  occasions  where 
diffuseness  is  graceful,  and  a  certain  amount  of  sur- 
plusage may  sometimes  be  admitted  into  harmonious 
prose  for  no  better  reason  than  to  sustain  the  balance 
of  clause  against  clause,  and  to  bring  out  the  general 
rhythmical  effect.  Brevity  is  of  course  the  preferable 
extreme ;  but  redundancy  has  its  charms  if  a  writer 
knows  when  to  be  redundant,  as  the  readers  of  Mr. 
De  Quincey  and  Mr.  Ruskin  are  well  aware.  On  the 
other  hand,  such  rhj'thmical  writing  as  Dr.  Henry's, 
or  Mr.  Singleton's,  where  he  is  not  actually  metrical, 
has  no  real  advantage  that  we  can  see  over  more 
recognized  modes  of  composition.  It  gives  up  the 
benefits   of  association,   no   one  in   reading   it   being 


Ixiv      ENGLISH  TRANSLATORS  OF   VIRGIL, 

reminded  of  anything  already  existing  in  English,  while 
the  uniformity  of  its  structure  imposes  virtually  as 
great  a  restraint  on  a  writer  as  actual  meter.  John- 
son advised  poets  who  did  not  think  themselves  capa- 
ble of  astonishing,  and  hoped  only  to  please,  to 
condescend  to  rhyme.  Translators  who  despair  of 
imitating  Virgil's  diction,  and  are  ambitious  only  of 
giving  his  meaning  in  a  pleasing  form,  may  reasonably 
be  content  with  prose. 


THE  BUCOLICS, 


ECLOGUE  I. 

TITYRUS.  ; 

Jf.  You,  Tityrus,  as  you  lie  under  the  covert  of  the 
spreading  beech,  are  studying  the  woodland  Muse  on 
your  slender  reed,  while  we  are  leaving  our  country's 
borders  and  the  fields  of  our  love  —  we  are  exiles  from 
our  country,  while  you,  Tityrus,  at  ease  in  the  shade,  are 
teaching  the  woods  to  resound  the  charms  of  Amaryllis. 

T.  O  Melibceus,  it  is  a  god  who  has  given  us  the 
peace  3'ou  see  —  for  a  god  he  shall  ever  be  to  me  ;  his 
altar  shall  often  be  wet  with  the  blood  of  a  tender  lamb 
from  our  folds.  He  it  is  that  has  made  my  oxen  free 
to  wander  at  large,  and  myself  to  play  at  my  pleasure 
on  my  rural  pipe. 

M.  I  do  not  grudge  you,  I.  It  is  rather  that  I  won- 
der, so  great  is  the  unsettledness  in  the  whole  countr}- 
round.  Look  at  me  here !  I  am  driving  mj^  goats 
feebly  on  before  me  ;  and  here  is  one,  Tityrus,  which  I 
can  but  just  drag  along.  Why,  it  was  here  among  these 
thick  hazels  only  just  now  that  she  dropped  twins,  after 
hard  labor  —  the  last  hope  of  my  flock  —  alas  !  on  the 
bare  flint.  Ah  !  often  and  often,  I  mind,  this  mischief 
was  foretold  me,  had  I  but  had  sense,  b}'  the  lightning 
striking  the  oak.  However,  do  kindty  tell  me,  Tityrus, 
who  this  god  of  yours  is. 

7 


8  THE  BUCOLICS. 

ZVj<M  ^-  That  city  which  they  call  Rome  I  thought,  Meli- 

boeus,  was  like  this  of  ours,  where  we  shepherds  are  in 
the  habit  of  weaning  and  driving  our  young  lambs.  It 
was  so  that  I  had  observed  puppies  to  be  like  dogs,  and 
kids  like  their  dams  ;  so,  in  short,  that  I  used  to  com- 
pare big  things  to  little.  But  I  found  her  carrying  her 
head  as  high  among  all  other  cities  as  cj'presses  do 
among  your  bending  hedgerow  trees. 

M.  And  what  was  the  mighty  reason  of  your  visiting 
Rome? 

T.  Freedom,  which  cast  an  ej^e  on  me  in  m}-  laziness, 
late  as  it  was,  after  my  beard  was  beginning  to  look 
gray  as  it  fell  under  the  barber's  shears.  However,  it 
did  cast  an  eye  on  me,  and  came,  though  itf  was  long 
first,  after  Amaryllis  got  the  hold  she  has  of  me,  and 
Galatea  took  leave  of  me.  For,  to  tell  the  truth,  while 
I  was  under  Galatea  I  never  looked  forward  to  freedom 
nor  attended  to  my  pelf;  though  I  had  man}^  a  sheep  for 
sacrifice  going  out  of  my  folds,  and  many  a  rich  cream- 
cheese  made  for  the  thankless  town,  3^et  mj"  hand  used 
never  to  come  home  with  a  load  of  money  in  it. 

M.  Aye,  Amaryllis,  I  used  to  wonder  why  you  were 
calling  on  the  gods  so  piteously  —  for  whom  it  was  that 
you  were  letting  the  apj)les  hang  on  their  trees.  It  was 
TitjTus  that  was  away.  Why,  Tityrus,  the  pines,  and 
the  springs,  and  the  vinej^ards  here,  used  all  to  call  for 
you  as  loudl}^  as  she  did. 

T.  How  could  I  help  it  ?  I  had  no  other  way  of 
quitting  slavery,  and  no  other  place  where  I  could  find 
gods  so  read}^  to  help  me.  Here  it  was,  Meliboeus,  that 
I  saw  that  youth  for  whom  I  make  my  altars  smoke 
twelve  daj^s  a  year.  Here  it  was  that  I  got  from  him 
m}"  first  gracious  answer  to  my  suit,  '  Go  on,  swains, 
feeding  your  oxen  as  before,  and  breeding  your  bulls.* 


ECLOGUE  I.  9 

M.  Happ3^  old  man  !  so  your  land  will  remain  your 
own,  and  enough,  too,  for  your  wants,  though  there  ma}' 
be  bare  flints  all  over  it,  and  the  marsh  covering  the 
pastures  with  slime  and  reeds.  Still,  no  strange  fodder 
will  trouble  your  breeding  ewes  —  no  baleful  contagion 
from"  a  neighbor's  flock  will  harm  them.  Happy  old 
man !  here  you  will  lie  among  the  streams  you  know  so 
well,  and  the  sacred  springs,  courting  the  coolness  of 
the  shade — from  here,  on  the  border  of  j^our  neighbor's 
land,  that  hedge,  whose  willow-blossoms  are  browsed 
by  Hybla's  bees,  shall  often  tempt  you  to  sleep,  as  it 
has  ever  done,  with  its  light  whispering  —  from  here, 
under  the  high  rock's  shelter,  the  dresser  shall  sing  out 
into  the  air  —  while  the  hoarse  wood-pigeons,  those 
favorites  of  yours,  and  the  turtle  will  still  go  on  com- 
plaining from  the  skyey  elm-top. 

T,  Yes  ;  sooner  shall  the  stags  become  buoyant  and 
pasture  in  the  sky,  and  the  seas  leave  their  fish  bare  on 
the  shore  —  sooner  shall  the  Parthian  and  German 
wander  over  each  other's  frontiers,  one  to  drink  the 
Arar  in  his  exile,  the  other  the  Tigris  —  than  that 
gracious  look  of  his  shall  fade  from  my  mind. 

M.  Meanwhile  we  are  leaving  our  home  ;  some  going 
among  the  thirsty  Africans,  while  others  will  reach 
Sc3'thia,  and  Crete's  swift  Oaxes,  and  Britain,  cut  off 
utterly  from  the  whole  world.  Tell  me,  will  there  ever 
be  a  day  when  I  shall  gaze  wonderingly,  after  long 
years,  on  my  native  fields,  and  the  turf-heaped  roof  of 
my  homel}^  cottage,  surveying  my  old  domains,  then, 
perhaps,  a  few  ears  of  corn  ?  Is  a  lawless  soldier  to 
be  master  of  lands  that  I  have  broken  up  and  tilled  so 
well  —  a  barbarian,  of  such  crops  as  these?  See  ^^ \  ^^QO^'^'ci^yr^^ 
what  a  point  civil  discord  has  brought  a  w^-etched  coun-J  ^^ 
ti}' !     See  for  whom  it  is  that  we  have  sown  our  fields  ! 


10  THE  BUCOLICS. 

Aye,  Meliboeus,  go  on  grafting  3'our  pears  and  setting 
your  vines  in  rows  !  Away,  my  goats,  away  —  you  that 
were  once  so  happ}-  !  No  more  shall  I  see  3'ou,  as  I  lie 
in  some  green  cavern,  in  the  distance  hanging  from  a 
briery  crag  —  no  more  verses  for  me  to  sing  —  no  more 
flowering  lucern  and  bitter  willow  leaves  for  you  to 
crop,  my  goats,  with  me  to  tend  you  ! 

T.  This  night,  at  all  events,  j^ou  might  rest  here  with 
me  on  a  couch  of  green  leaves.  We  have  ripe  apples, 
mealy  chestnuts,  and  milk-cheeses  in  good  store ;  and 
now  the  farmhouse  tops  are  smoking  in  the  distance, 
and  the  shadows  are  falling  larger  from  the  mountain 
heights. 

ECLOGUE  11. 
ALEXIS. 

Corydon,  the  shepherd,  was  burning  for  the  lovely 
Alexis,  his  master's  darling,  with  no  prospect  for  his 
hope.  All  he  could  do  was  to  come  daily  among  the 
thick  beeches,  with  their  shad}^  summits,  and  there  all 
alone  to  pour  out  wildly  to  the  mountains  and  woods 
such  unstudied  strains  as  these  in  unavailing  passion : 

'  Cruel  Alexis  !  have  you  no  care  for  my  songs  ?  no 
pity  for  me  ?  You  will  drive  me  to  death  at  last.  It  is 
the  hour  when  even  cattle  are  seeking  the  shade  and  its 
coolness  —  the  hour  when  even  green  lizards  are  shelter- 
ing themselves  in  the  brakes,  and  Thestylis  is  making 
for  the  reapers,  as  they  come  back  spent  with  the  ve- 
hement heat,  her  savory  mess  of  bruised  garlic  and  wild 
thyme  ;  but  I,  as  I  am  scanning  the  prints  of  your  feet, 
am  left  with  a  choir  of  hoarse  cicalas  that  make  the 
plantations  ring  again  under  the  blazing  sun.  Was  there 
not  satisfaction  in  bearing  Amaryllis's  storms  of  passion 


,  ECLOGUE  TL  \\ 

and  her  scornful  humors  ?  or  Menalcas,  again  —  dark  as 
he  was  —  fair  as  are  you  ?  Do  not,  loveliest  boy,  do  not 
presume  too  much  on  that  bright  bloom  —  white  privet 
is  left  to  fall,  dark  hyacinths  are  gathered  for  posies. 

*  You  think  scorn  of  me,  Alexis,  without  even  asking 
what  I  am  —  how  rich  I  am  in  cattle,  how  overflowing 
in  milk  white  as  snow.  Why,  I  have  a  thousand  ewe 
lambs  straying  at  large  over  the  mountains  of  Sicily  — 
new  milk  never  fails  me  either  summer  or  winter.  I  can 
sing  as  Amphion  of  Dirce  sang  when  calling  the  flocks 
home  on  the  Attic  Arac3'nthus.  I  am  not  so  unsightly 
either  —  the  other  da}^  on  the  sea-shore  I  looked  at  my- 
self, as  the  sea  was  standing  all  glassy  in  a  calm.  I 
should  not  fear  competing  with  Daphnis  in  your  judg- 
ment, if  the  reflection  never  plaj's  false. 

'  O  if  you  would  but  take  a  fancy  to  live  with  me  a 
homely  country  life  in  a  humble  cottage,  shooting  the 
deer,  and  driving  the  herds  of  kids  a-field  to  the  green 
mallows  !  Living  with  me,  you  shall  soon  rival  Pan  in 
singing  in  the  woodland.  Pan  it  was  that  first  taught 
the  fashion  of  fastening  several  reeds  together  with  wax. 
Pan  it  is  that  cares  for  sheep  and  shepherds.  Do  not 
think  3"ou  would  be  sorr}"  to  chafe  3'our  lip  with  a  reed 
—  to  learn  this  same  lesson,  what  used  not  Amyntas  to 
go  through  ?  I  have  a  pipe  made  out  of  seven  uneven 
hemlock  stalks,  which  Damcetas  once  gave  me  as  a 
present — his  djdng  words  were,  "  It  is  yours  now,  as  my 
next  heir."  So  said  Damcetas.  Amj-ntas,  in  his  folly, 
felt  jealous.  Besides,  I  have  two  3'oung  roes,  which  I 
found  in  a  dangerous  valle}^  their  skins  still  sprinkled 
with  white,  sucking  the  same  ewe  twice  a  day.  I  am 
keeping  them  for  you.  Thest3dis,  to  be  sure,  has  been 
long  begging  to  get  them  away  from  me — and  so  she 
shall,  as  you  think  my  presents  so  mean.     Come  to  me, 


12  THE  BUCOLICS. 

loveliest  boj' —  see,  the  nj^mphs  are  bringing  basketsful 
of  lilies,  all  for  you  —  for  you,  the  fair  naiad  plucks 
yellow  violets  and  poppy  heads,  and  puts  them  with 
the  narcissus  and  the  fragrant  fennel  flower,  twines  them 
with  cassia  and  other  pleasant  plants,  and  picks  out  the 
delicate  hj'acinth  with  the  yellow  marigold !  I  will 
gather  you  m3'self  quinces  with  their  soft  white  down, 
and  chestnuts,  which  my  A'marj'llis  used  to  love  so,  and 
put  in  waxen  plums  —  this  fruit,  too,  shall  come  in  for 
honor.  You,  too,  I  will  pluck,  ye  bays,  and  you,  myr- 
tle, that  always  go  with  them  —  so  placed  you  make  a 
union  of  sweet  smells. 

'  Cor3Tlon,  3'ou  are  nothing  but  a  clown.  Alexis  cares 
nothing  for  such  presents ;  naj',  if  presents  are  to  be 
your  weapons,  lollas  will  not  yield  the  day  to  you. 
Alas,  alas!  what  wretched  wish  have  I  been  forming? 
I  have  been  madman  enough  to  let  the  south  wind  into 
my  flower-beds,  and  the  boars  into  my  clear  springs. 
Do  you  know  whom  you  are  flying  from,  infatuate  as 
you  are  ?  Why,  even  the  gods  have  lived  in  the  coun- 
try, aye,  and  Dardan  Paris.  Leave  Pallas  to  live  by 
herself  in  the  great  city  towns  she  has  built ;  let  us  love 
the  country  beyond  an}^  other  place.  The  grim  lioness 
goes  after  the  wolf,  the  w^olf,  for  his  part,  after  the  goat, 
the  playful  goat  after  the  flowering  lucern,  Corydon 
after  you,  Alexis  —  each  is  drawn  ])y  his  peculiar  pleas- 
ure. Look,  the  bullocks  are  drawing  home  the  plough, 
with  its  share  slung  up,  and  the  sun,  as  he  withdraws, 
is  doubling  the  lengthening  shadows  —  yet  still  love  is 
burning  me  up  —  for  how  should  there  be  any  stint  for 
love?  Ah,  Corydon,  Corydon  !  what  madness  has  pos- 
sessed 3'Ou?  Here  are  your  vines  half-pruned,  and  the 
elms  they  hang  on  overgrown  with  leaves.  Come,  3'ou 
had  better  set  about  plaiting  out  some  work  for  needful 


ECLOGUE  III.  13 

occasions  with  twigs  or  pliant  rushes.     You  will  find 
another  Alexis,  though  the  present  one  may  scorn  you.* 


ECLOGUE   III. 
PAL^MON. 

M.  Tell  me,  Damoetas,  whose  cattle?  Meliboeus's? 

D.  No  ;  but  -Agon's.  They  were  just  now  handed 
over  to  me  b}^  jEgon. 

M.  Poor  creatures,  alwaj^s  unlucky  !  He  is  courting 
Nesera,  all  afraid  that  she  will  be  preferring  me  to  him, 
while  his  hireling  performs  a  shepherd's  dut}^  b}'  milking 
the  sheep  twice  an  hour,  and  so  the  cattle  are  robbed 
of  their  life-juice,  and  the  lambs  of  their  milk. 

M.  Aye,  of  course,  when  they  saw  me  with  my  felon- 
knife  notching  Micon's  plantations  of  young  vines. 

D.  Or  rather,  we  will  say,  by  the  old  beeches  here, 
when  you  broke  Daphnis's  bow  and  arrows,  which  you 
were  vexed  about  at  the  time  — yow  with  your  crooked 
ways  —  when  jom  saw  the  boy  get  his  present,  and 
afterward,  if  you  had  not  found  some  wa}*  of  spiting 
him,  you  would  have  died. 

M.  What  are  masters  likely  to  do,  if  knaves  venture 
so  far?  Did  not  I  see  you,  you  scoundrel,  snapping  up 
stealthily  Damon's  goat,  while  his  mongrel  was  barking 
furiously?  And  then,  when  I  was  calling  out,  '  Where's 
he  off  to  now  ?  Tityrus,  muster  yonv  flock ! '  you 
skulked  behind  the  sedge. 

D.  Why,  after  a  fair  beating  in  singing,  was  he  not  to  >, 
pay  me  the  goat  which  my  pipe  had  earned  for  me  b}^  . 
its  songs?  If  you  must  know,  that  goat  was  mine,  and  / 
Damon  owned  it  to  me  himself,  but  said  he  would  not  pay. 


14  THE  BUCOLICS, 


Ml 


M.  You  beat  him  in  singing  ?  Why,  had  you  ever  a 
pipe  jointed  with  wax  ?  Used  you  not  to  perform  at  the 
crossings,  executing  vile,  miserable  songs,  like  an  un- 
educated dolt,  as  you  are,  on  a  screaking  straw  ? 

D.  Well,  what  do  you  say  to  our  trying  together  what 
each  is  made  of,  turn  and  turn  about  ?  This  heifer  — 
don't  back  out  of  it  —  she  comes  twice  a  day  to  the 
milk-pail  and  suckles  a  couple  of  calves  —  shall  be  my 
stake.     Do  you  name  what  wager  you  will  go  in  upon. 

M.  Why,  out  of  my  flock  I  dare  not  stake  anything 
with  you.  The  fact  is,  I  have  a  father  at  home,  aje,  and 
I  have  a  harsh  step-mother ;  both  count  the  flock  twice 
a  day,  and  one  of  them  the  kids  too.  But  I  will  make 
what  3'ou  will  yourself  own  to  be  a  greater  venture,  as 
you  are  minded  to  play  so  mad  a  game.  I  will  stake  a 
pair  of  cups  of  beechwood,  the  embossed  work  of  the 
divine  Alcimedon  ;  the  plastic  graving-tool  has  wreathed 
them  round  with  a  limber  vine,  entwined  with  spreading 
clusters  of  pale-yellow  ivy.  In  the  field  there  are  two 
figures,  Conon  and  —  who  was  the  other,  who  marked 
out  with  his  rod  the  whole  heavens  for  mankind,  that 
they  might  know  the  seasons  which  the  reaper  and  the 
stooping  ploughman  were  to  have  for  their  own?  I 
have  not  yet  put  my  lips  to  them  either,  but  keep  them 
in  store. 

D,  Yes.  I  have  two  cups,  too,  made  for  me  by  the 
same  Alcimedon,  who  has  clasped  their  handles  with 
pliant  acanthus,  and  drawn  Orpheus  on  the  field  and 
the  woods  going  after  him.  I  have  not  yet  put  my  lips 
to  them  either,  but  keep  them  in  store.  However,  if 
you  once  look  to  the  heifer,  you  will  have  nothing  to 
say  for  the  cups. 

M.  You  are  not  going  to  run  awaj^  this  time.  I  will 
meet  you  wherever  you  appoint —  only  let  there  be  some 


ECLOGUE  III,  15 

one  to  hear  us.     Palsemon  —  don't  you  see  hiia  coming  • 
up  ?  —  will  do.     I  will  take  care  that  you  challenge  no- 
body to  sing  for  the  future. 

D.  Naj^,  come  on,  if  you  can  ;  there  will  be  no  hin-    » 
derance  on  my  side.    I  don't  run  away  from  anybody  — 
only,  neighbor  Palaemon,  give  your  best  attention  to 
this  :  it  is  no  trifling  matter. 

P.  Sing,  then,  now  that  we  are  seated  on  the  soft 
grass.  It  is  the  time  when  every  field  and  every  tree 
is  3'ielding  its  fruit ;  the  time  when  the  woods  are  in 
leaf,  and  the  year  is  at  its  loveliest.  Begin,  Damcetas  ; 
you  follow  him,  Menalcas.  You  shall  sing  by  turns ; 
singing  by  turns  is  what  the  Muses  love. 

D.  Jove  shall  be  our  first  word,  Muses.  Jove  is  the  j 
filler  of  all  things :  he  makes  the  earth  fruitful,  and  he  / 
has  a  thought  for  verses  like  mine. 

M.  I  am  Phoebus's  favorite.  Phoebus  always  finds 
with  me  his  own  peculiar  presents,  the  bay  and  the 
sweet  ruddy  hyacinth. 

D.  Galatea  flings  an  apple  at  me,  like  a  saucy  girl, 
as  she  is,  and  then  runs  off  to  the  willows,  and  would " 
like  to  be  seen  first. 

M.  But  I  have  my  darling  Am3mtas,  putting  himself 
in  my  way  unasked,  so  that  my  dogs  have  got  to  know 
him  now  as  well  as  Delia. 

D.  I  have  got  a  present  ready  for  my  goddess.  I 
have  marked  the  spot  with  my  own  eyes  where  the 
wood-pigeons  have  been  building  up  in  the  sky. 

M.  I  have  done  my  best  for  to-da}- ;  ten  golden  ap- 
ples, picked  from  a  tree  in  the  orchard,  I  have  sent  my 
boy ;  to-morrow  I  will  send  as  many  more. 

D.  O  the  times  Galatea  has  talked  to  me  and  the 
things  she  has  said  !  Carry  some  of  them,  ye  winds,  to 
the  ears  of  the  gods  I 


16  THE  BUCOLICS, 

M.  What  good  is  it  that  at  heart  3'ou  do  not  scorn 
me,  Am3^ntas,  if  while  you  are  following  the  boars,  I 
am  always  watching  the  nets  ? 

D.  Send  me  Ph3ilis  :  it  is  my  birthday,  loUas.  When 
I  sacrifice  a  heifer  for  the  harvest,  come  yourself. 

M,  Ph^^Uis  is  laiy  own  dearest  love.  Why,  she  wept 
on  parting  from  me,  and  dwelt  long  on  the  words, 
'  Farewell,  farewell,  my  lovel}^  lollas  ! ' 

D,  The  bane  of  the  folds  is  the  wolf,  of  the  ripe 
crops  the  rain,  of  the  trees  the  sirocco  —  mine  is 
Amar^Tllis's  storms  of  passion. 

M.  The  J03"  of  the  3'oung  corn  is  moisture,  of  weaned 
kids  the  arbute,  of  breeding  cattle  the  limber  willow  — 
mine  is  none  but  Am^ntas. 

D.  PoUio  loves  my  muse — countr^'-bred  though  she 
be.  Pierian  goddesses,  breed  a  heifer  for  3^our  gentle 
reader. 

M.  PoUio  writes  fresh  verses  himself.  Breed  a  bull 
old  enough  to  butt  with  the  horn  and  spurn  the  sand 
with  the  hoof. 

•  D.  The  man  that  loves  yoxx^  Pollio,  let  him  arrive 
where  he  is  glad  to  see  you ;  for  him  let  honey  distil, 
and  let  the  prickly  thorn-bush  bear  spices. 

M,  The  man  that  hates  not  Bavins,  let  him  love  your 
verses,  Msevius  ;  let  him,  moreover,  plough  with  a  team 
of  foxes,  and  milk  he-goats. 

D,  You  who  gather  flowers  and  strawberries  that 
grow  on  the  ground,  there  is  a  cold  snake  —  off  with 
3^ou,  my  boys  !  —  lurking  in  this  grass. 

M.  Don't  go  on  venturing  too  far,  my  sheep ;  the 
bank  is  not  to  be  trusted.  Why,  the  ram  himself  is 
just  now  dr3dng  his  coat. 

D.  Tityrus,  sling  away  those  goats  that  are  grazing 
there  from  the  river.  I'll  wash  them  all  myself  in  due 
time  at  the  spring. 


ECLOGUE  IV,  17 

M.  Get  yaur  sheep  into  the  shade,  my  boys  ;  if  the 
heat  steal  a  inarch  on  the  milk,  as  it  did  the  other  day, 
it  will  be  in  vain  that  we  shall  tug  at  the  udders. 

D.  Dear,  dear,  how  lean  my  bull  is  among  the  fat- 
tening tares !  it  is  the  same  love  that  wastes  the  cattle 
and  the  cattle's  master. 

M,  These  of  mine  certainly  have  not  less  the  matter 
with  them  either  —  the  flesh  scarcely  covers  the  bones  ; 
it  must  be  some  one's  evil  eye  that  bewitches  such 
young  lambs  as  mine  are. 

D,  Tell  me  in  what  country  —  and  you  shall  be  my 
grand  Apollo  —  the  horizon  is  no  broader  than  three 
ells  across. 

M.  Tell  me  in  what  country  flowers  grow  with  the 
names  of  kings  written  on  them,  and  have  Phyllis  all 
to  yourself. 

P.  I  am  not  the  man  to  settle  a  difierence  like  this 
between  you.  You  deserve  the  heifer,  and  so  does  he ; 
and  every  one  who  shall  either  mistrust  love's  sweets 
or  taste  its  bitters  as  you  have  done.  Shut  off  the 
water  now,  my  boys  ;  the  meadows  have  had  enough  to 
drink. 

ECLOGUE  IV. 
POLLIO. 

Muses  of  Sicily,  let  us  strike  a  somewhat  louder 
chord.  It  is  not  for  all  that  plantations  have  charms, 
or  groundling  tamarisks.  If  we  are  to  sing  of  the 
woodland,  let  the  woodland  rise  to  a  consul's  dignity. 

The  last  era  of  the  song  of  Cumse  has  come  at  length ; 

the  grand  file  of  the  ages  is  being  born  anew ;  at  length 

the  virgin  is  returning,  returning  too  the  reign  of  Saturn ; 

at  length  a  new  generation  is  descending  from  heaven 

2 


18  THE  BUCOLICS. 

on  high.  Do  but  thou  smile  thy  pure  smile  on  the  birth 
of  the  boy  who  shall  at  last  bring  the  race  of  iron  to  an 
end,  and  bid  the  golden  race  spring  up  all  the  world 
over  —  thou,  Lucina  —  thine  own  Apollo  is  at  length  on 
his  throne.  In  thy  consulship  it  is  —  in  thine,  Pollio  — 
that  this  glorious  time  shall  come  on,  and  the  mighty 
months  begin  their  march.  Under  th}^  conduct,  any  re- 
maining trace  of  our  national  guilt  shall  become  void, 
and  release  the  world  from  the  thralldom  of  perpetual 
fear.  He  shall  have  the  life  of  the  gods  conferred  on 
him,  and  shall  see  gods  and  heroes  mixing  together, 
and  shall  himself  be  seen  of  them,  and  with  his  father's 
virtues  shall  govern  a  world  at  peace. 

For  thee,  sweet  boy,  the  earth  of  her  own  unforced 
will  shall  pour  forth  a  child's  first  presents  —  gadding 
ivy  and  foxglove  everywhere,  and  Egj-ptian  bean  blend- 
ing with  the  bright  smiling  acanthus.  Of  themselves, 
the  goats  shall  carry  home  udders  distended  with  milk ; 
nor  shall  the  herds  fear  huge  lions  in  the  way.  Of 
itself,  thy  grassy  cradle  shall  pour  out  flowers  to  caress 
thee.  Death  to  the  serpent,  and  to  the  treacherous 
plant  of  poisoned  juice.  Assyrian  spices  shall  spring 
up  by  the  wayside. 

But  soon  as  thou  shalt  be  of  an  age  to  read  at  length 
of  the  glories  of  heroes  and  thy  father's  deeds,  and  to 
acquaint  th^^self  with  the  nature  of  manly  work,  the 
yellow  of  the  waving  corn  shall  steal  graduall}^  over 
the  plain,  and  from  briers,  that  know  naught  of  culture, 
grapes  shall  hang  in  purple  clusters,  and  the  stubborn 
heart  of  oak  shall  exude  dews  of  honey.  Still,  under  all 
this  show,  some  few  traces  shall  remain  of  the  sin  and 
guile  of  old  —  such  as  may  prompt  men  to  defy  the  ocean 
goddess  with  their  ships,  to  build  towns  with  walls 
round  them,  to  cleave  furrows  in  the  soil  of  earth.     A 


ECLOGUE  IV.  19 

second  Tiphys  shall  there  be  in  those  days  —  a  second 
Argo  to  convey  the  flower  of  chivalry  ;  a  second  war  of 
heroes,  too,  shall  there  be,  and  a  second  time  shall 
Achilles  be  sent  in  his  greatness  to  Troy. 

Afterwards,  when  ripe  years  have  at  length  made  thee 
man,  even  the  peaceful  sailor  shall  leave  the  sea,  nor 
shall  the  good  ship  of  pine  exchange  merchandise  — 
all  lands  shall  produce  all  things  ;  the  ground  shall  not 
feel  the  harrow,  nor  the  vineyard  the  pruning-hook  ;  the 
sturdy  ploughman,  too,  shall  at  length  set  his  bullocks 
free  from  the  yoke  ;  nor  shall  wool  be  taught  to  counter- 
feit varied  hues,  but  of  himself,  as  he  feeds  in  the 
meadows,  the  ram  shall  transform  his  fleece,  now  into 
a  lovely  purple  dye,  now  into  saflTron-yellow — of  its 
own  will,  scarlet  shall  clothe  the  lambs  as  they  graze. 
Ages  like  these,  flow  on  !  —  so  cried  to  their  spindles 
the  Fates,  uttering  in  concert  the  fixed  will  of  destiny. 

Assume  thine  august  dignities  —  the  time  is  at  length 
at  hand  —  thou  best-loved  off*spring  of  the  gods,  august 
scion  of  Jove  !  Look  upon  the  world  as  it  totters  be- 
neath the  mass  of  its  overhanging  dome  —  earth  and 
the  expanse  of  sea  and  the  deep  of  heaven  —  look  how 
all  are  rejoicing  in  the  age  that  is  to  be !  O  may  my 
life's  last  days  last  long  enough  and  breath  be  granted 
me  enough  to  tell  of  thy  deeds  !  I  will  be  overmatched 
in  song  by  none  —  not  by  Orpheus  of  Thrace,  nor  by 
Linus,  though  that  were  backed  by  his  mother,  and 
this  by  his  father  —  Orpheus  by  Calliope,  Linus  by 
Apollo  in  his  beauty.  Were  Pan  himself,  with  Arcady 
looking  on,  to  enter  the  lists  with  me.  Pan  himself, 
Arcady  looking  on,  should  own  himself  vanquished 

Begin,  sweet  child,  with  a  smile,  to  take  notice  of  thy 
mother  —  that  mother  has  had  ten  months  of  tedious 
sickness  and  loathing.     Begin,  sweet  child  —  the  babe 


•cady 
with  / 


20  THE  BUCOLICS. 

on  whom  never  parent  smiled,  never  grew  to  deserve 
the  table  of  a  god  or  the  bed  of  a  goddess  ! 


ECLOGUE  V. 
DAPHNIS. 

Me,  Why  not  sit  down  together,  Mopsus,  as  we 
happen  to  have  met,  both  good  in  our  way  —  you  at 
filling  slender  reeds  with  your  breath,  I  at  singing 
songs  —  here  among  this  clump  of  elms  and  hazels  ? 

Mo,  You  are  my  elder  ;  you  have  a  right  to  give  me 
the  word,  Menalcas,  whether  we  should  retire  under 
those  flickering  shades  which  the  zephyrs  keep  agitat- 
ing, or  rather  into  the  cave.  See  how  the  cave  is 
covered  by  the  wild  vine's  straggling  tendrils. 

Me,  In  these  hills  of  ours  you  have  no  rival  but 
Amyntas. 

Mo.  What  if  he  were  to  rival  Phoebus,  too,  for  the 
prize  of  singing? 

Me.  You  go  on  first,  Mopsus.  If  j^ou  happen  to 
have  any  song  about  Phyllis's  flame,  or  Alcon's  glories, 
or  Codrus's  quarrels,  go  on.  Tityrus  will  look  after 
the  kids  while  grazing. 

Mo,  I  w^ould  rather  try  my  hand  at  some  verses 
which  I  wrote  out  the  other  day  on  the  green  beechen 
bark,  and  set  them  to  music,  with  marks  for  the  flute  and 
voice.     When  I  have  done,  put  on  my  rival,  Amyntas. 

Me,  As  far  as  the  limber  willow  is  below  the  yellow- 
green  olive,  or  the  groundling  Celtic  nard  below  the 
bright  red  rose-beds,  so  far  in  my  judgment  does 
Amyntas  rank  lower  than  3-ou. 

Mo,  Well,  my  boj^,  say  no  more  ;  we  are  getting  in- 
to the  cave.  • 


ECLOGUE    V.  21 

Over  Daphnis,  cut  off  b}^  so  cruel  a  fate,  the  m^mphs 
were  weeping ;  hazels  and  rivers,  you  heard  the 
nymphs,  when  his  mother,  clasping  her  son's  piteous 
corpse,  is  crjdng  out  on  the  cruelty  of  the  gods  and  the 
stars,  as  only  a  mother  can.  None  were  there  in  those 
dreary  days,  Daphnis,  to  feed  the  oxen,  and  drive  them 
down  to  the  cool  streams ;  no  beast  was  there  that 
tasted  the  river,  or  touched  the  blades  of  grass.  Daph- 
nis, thy  death  drew  groans  even  from  the  lions  of  Car- 
thage, so  say  the  echoes  of  those  wild  mountains  and 
forests.  Daphnis,  too,  it  was  that  set  the  fashion  of 
harnessing  the  tigers  of  Armenia  to  the  car.  Daph- 
nis, that  showed  how  to  bring  on  companies  of  Bac- 
chanals, and  twine  quivering  spear-shafts  with  soft 
foliage.  As  the  vine  is  the  glory  of  the  trees  it  clasps, 
as  the  grapes  of  the  vine,  as  the  bull  of  the  herd,  as 
the  standing  corn  of  the  fruitful  field,  thou  and  thou 
alone  art  the  glory  of  those  who  love  thee.  Since  the 
Fates  have  swept  fe^  off.  Pales  has  taken  lier  leave  /M^ 
of  the  country,  aye,  and  Apollo  Ms.  Often  nowadays, 
in  the  verj^  furrows  to  whose  care  we  give  our  largest 
barley  grains,  we  see  growing  ungenerous  darnel  and 
unfruitful  oats.  In  place  of  the  delicate  violet  and 
the  dazzling  bright  narcissus  springs  up  the  thistle, 
and  the  thorn  with  its  sharp  spikes.  ^Sow  the  turf 
with  flowers,  embower  the  springs  in  shade,  ye  shep- 
herds !  It  is  Daphnis'  charge  that  this  should  be  done 
for  him ;  and  raise  a  tomb,  and  to  the  tomb  append  a 
verse,  '  Here  lie  I,  Daphnis,  the  wocillander,  whose 
name  is  known  from  here  to  the  stars ;  a  lovely  flock 
I  had  to  keep,  but  I  was  more  lovely  than  they.' 

Me.  Sweet  is  your  strain  to  my  ears,  heavenly  poet, 
as  is  sleep  to  tired  limbs  on  the  grass,  as  is  the  quench- 
ing of  thirst  in  mid-day  heat  in  the  stream  where  sweet 


22  THE  BUCOLICS. 

waters  play.  It  is  not  only  in  piping,  but  in  singing 
that  5'ou  match  j'our  teacher.  Happy  shepherd  boy ! 
now  you  will  be  his  fitting  successor.  Still,  however, 
I  will  sing  3'ou  in  turn,  as  I  best  may,  a  strain  here 
of  my  own,  and  will  exalt  your  Daphnis  to  heaven. 
Yes,  Daphnis  I  will  carry  up  to  heaven.  I,  too,  was 
beloved  by  Daphnis. 

Mo,  As  if  there  were  anything  I  should  value  more 
than  a  boon  like  this.  That  glorious  boy  was  a  theme 
worthy  of  any  one's  song,  and  Stimicon  ere  now  has 
dwelt  to  me  with  rapture  on  those  strains  of  yours. 

Me,  Dazzling  in  beauty  himself,  Daphnis  is  now 
marveling  at  the  strange  splendor  of  heaven's  thresh- 
old as  he  crosses  it,  and  looking  down  on  the  clouds 
and  stars  under  his  feet,  whereat  a  wild  and  eager 
rapture  is  taking  hold  of  the  woods  and  the  rest  of 
rustic  life,  seizing  on  Pan  and  the  shepherds,  and  the 
Dr^^ad  maids.  No  more  does  the  wolf  plan  surprises 
for  the  cattle  or  the  snares  for  the  deer,  for  they  know 
that  the  gracious  Daphnis  loves  all  to  be  at  peace. 
The  very  mountains  in  their  unshorn  strength  are  fling- 
ing the  sound  exultingly  to  the  sky.  The  very  rocks, 
the  plantations,  too,  are  already  taking  up  the  song, 
'  We  have  a  new  god,  a  new  god,  Menalcas ! '  Be 
gracious  and  f)ropitious  to  thy  worshipers  !  See,  here 
are  four  altars  —  two,  see,  for  thee,  Daphnis  ;  two  of  a 
larger  build  for  Phoebus  ;  two  cups,  with  new  milk,  foam- 
ing over  the  brim  each  3^ear,  and  two  bowls  will  I  set 
up  for  thee  of* rich  olive  oil ;  and,  above  all,  cheering 
the  feast  with  abundance  of  the  wine-god's  juice  before 
the  fire,  if  it  be  winter ;  if  harvest-time,  in  the  shade,  I 
will  pour  out  into  goblets  the  fresh  nectar  of  Ariusian 
wine.  I  will  have  songs  sung  by  Damaetas  and  JEgon 
of  Lycta ;  the  dances  of  the  Satyrs  shall  be  imitated  by 


ECLOGUE   VI.  23 

Alphesiboeus.  Such  honors  shall  be  thine  for  ever,  both 
when  we  pay  our  j^early  vows  to  the  nymphs,  and  when 
we  have  our  lustral  survey  of  the  country.  So  long  as 
the  wild  boar  shall  love  the  mountain  ridges,  and  the  fish 
the  running  stream  ;  so  long  as  thyme  shall  be  the  food 
of  the  bee,  and  dew  of  the  grasshopper,  so  long  shall 
thy  honor,  and  thy  name,  and  thy  glory  for  ever  remain. 
Like  Bacchus  and  Ceres,  thou  shalt  have  vows  paid 
thee  yearly  by  the  countrymen.  Thou,  like  them,  shalt 
make  thy  worshipers  thy  debtors. 

Mo.  What  present,  what  shall  I  give  you  for  a  song 
like  this  ?  Wh}' ,  the  whisper  of  the  rising  south  is  not 
so  charming  to  my  ear,  nor  the  beating  of  the  waves  on 
the  shore,  nor  the  streams  that  run  down  among  the 
rocky  glens. 

Me.  Here  is  my  present  to  you  first  —  this  frail  reed  ; 
it  was  this  from  which  I  learnt  '  Corydon  was  burning 
for  the  lovel}^  Alexis,'  and  that  other  lesson,  '  Whose 
cattle,  Meliboeus?' 

Mo.  But  you  must  accept  this  sheep-hook,  which,  in 
spite  of  his  frequent  begging,  Antigenes  never  got  /rom 
me  —  and  there  was  much  to  love  in  him,  too,  in  those 
days  —  a  handsome  one,  with  regular  knots  and  brass 
about  it,  Menalcas. 

ECLOGUE    VI. 

VARUS. 

First  of  all,  my  muse  deigned  to  disport  herself  in  the 
strains  of  pastoral  Syracuse,  and  disdained  not  to  make 
her  home  in  the  woods,  goddess  as  she  was.  When  I  was 
venturing  to  sing  of  kings  and  battles,  the  Cynthian  god 
touched  my  ear,  and  appealed  to  my  memorj'.  '  It  is  a 
shepherd's  part,  Tityrus,  that  the  sheep  that  he  feeds 


mP 


24  THE  BUCOLICS.  ^ 

siiould  be  fat,  and  the  songs  that  he  sing^Jliin.*  So 
now  I  —  for  there  will  be  enough  and  to  spare,  whose 
desire  it  will  be  to  sing  thy  praises.  Varus,  and  make 
battles  their  tragic  theme  —  will  choose  the  woodland 
muse  for  my  stud}^,  and  the  slender  reed  for  my  instru- 
ment. It  is  not  for  me  to  sing  strains  unbidden.  Still, 
if  there  sliould  be  anj',  any  to  read  even  a  lowly  lay  like 
this  with  fond  regard,  thou,  Varus,  shouldst  be  the  song 
of  these  tamarisks  of  mine  —  the  song  of  the  whole  for- 
estry —  for  Phoebus  knows  no  more  welcome  page  than 
that  which  bears  on  its  front  the  name  of  Varus. 

Proceed,  Pierian  maids.  Young  Chromis  and  Mnasy- 
los  saw  old  Silenus  lying  asleep  in  a  cave,  his  veins 
swollen,  as  is  his  constant  wont,  by  the  wine-god,  his 
friend  of  yesterday.  There  were  the  garlands  a  short 
way  off,  l3'ing  just  as  they  dropped  from  his  head,  and 
his  heavy  jug  was  hanging  b}'  its  battered  handle.  They 
commence  the  attack  (for  the  old  god  had  often  balked 
both  of  a  promised  song) ,  and  put  him  in  fetters  made 
out  of  his  own  garlands.  A  companion  comes  up  to 
reasgure  their  faltering,  -^gle,  -3Sgle,  fairest  of  the 
Naiads,  and  as  he  begins  to  open  his  eyes,  paints  his 
forehead  and  his  temples  blood-red  with  mulberry  juice. 
He,  with  a  laugh  at  the  stratagem,  exclaims,  '  What  do 
you  want  with  binding  me  ?  Untie  me,  boys  ;  be  con- 
tent with  the  credit  of  having  me  in  your  power.  The 
song  3'OU  want  is  at  your  service.'  With  that  he  begins. 
That  was  the  signal  for  fauns  and  wild  beasts  —  you 
might  see  them  —  frolicking  in  measured  dance,  and 
stately  unbending  oaks  nodding  their  tops  to  and  fro  ; 
and  as  for  the  mountains,  the  rock  of  Parnassus  is  never 
so  enraptured  with  Phcebus,  nor  are  Rhodope  and  Is- 
marus  so  entranced  by  Orpheus. 

For  he  began  to  sing  how  through  the  mighty  void 


ECLOGUE   VL  25 

had  been  brought  together  the  elements  of  earth  and  air 
and  sea  and  streaming  fire  all  at  once  ;  how  from  them 
as  their  origin  all  things  had  a  beginning,  and  the  new- 
born orb  of  the  universe  grew  into  shape.  Next,  the  soil 
began  to  harden,  and  leave  Nereus  to  be  shut  up  in  the 
sea,  and  by  degrees  to  assume  the  forms  of  things,  so 
that  at  length  the  earth  is  surprised  to  see  a  new  sun 
break  into  light  above  it,  and  the  rain  has  a  longer  fall 
as  the  clouds  are  drawn  up  higher,  just  as  the  woods  first 
begin  to  rise  from  the  ground,  and  living  things  wander 
thinly  over  mountains  that  never  saw  them  before. 

From  this  he  comes  to  tell  of  the  stones  that  Pj^rrha 
threw  behind  her,  the  golden  reign  of  Saturn,  and  the 
birds  of  Caucasus,  and  the  theft  of  Prometheus.  With 
this  he  couples  the  tale,  how  Hylas  was  left  behind  at 
the  springs  and  his  shipmates  called  for  him  till  the 
shore  rang  with  Hylas !  Hylas !  from  end  to  end. 
Turning -next  to  her  who  would  have  been  happy  indeed 
had  cattle  never  been  created,  Pasiphae,  he  soothes  her 
with  her  passion  for  the  snow-white  bull.  Unhappy 
girl !  how  came  such  frenzy  to  take  hold  of  thee  ? 
Proetus'  daughters  once  filled  the  pastures  with  their 
counterfeited  lo wings,  yet  none  of  them  ever  fell  to 
such  disgrace,  often  as  she  shrank  from  the  thought  of 
the  yoke  on  her  neck,  and  felt  for  horns  on  her  smooth 
woman's  brow.  Unhappy  girl !  yes,  thou  art  wandering 
over  the  hills,  while  he,  with  that  snowy  side  pillowed 
on  soft  hyacinths,  is  chewing  the  yellow  green  grass 
under  the  dark  holm-oak,  or  going  after  some  heifer  in 
the  populous  herd.  Close,  ye  nymphs,  ye  nymphs  of 
Dicte,  haste  and  close  the  glades  of  the  forest,  if  by  any 
chance  my  eyes  may  fall  on  the  bull's  truant  footsteps ; 
perhaps  he  may  have  been  attracted  by  a  patch  of 
green  herbage,  or  may  have  gone  after  the  herd,  and 


26  THE  BUCOLICS. 

some  of  the  cows  may  bring  him  home  to  the  stalls  of 
Gortyna. 

Then  he  sings  of  the  maiden  who  stopped  to  admire 
the  apples  of  the  Hesperides  ;  next  he  clothes  the  sisters 
of  Phaethon  with  a  mossy  bark  of  bitter  taste,  and  bids 
them  rise  from  the  ground  as  tall  alders.  Next  he  sings 
how,  as  Gallus  was  wandering  by  the  waters  of  Per- 
messus,  one  of  the  sisters  took  him  up  to  the  Aonian 
hills,  and  how  the  whole  choir  of  Phoebus  stood  up  to 
receiv^e  their  noble  visitant ;  how  Linus,  shepherd  and 
heavenly  poet  in  one,  his  locks  wreathed  with  flowers 
and  bitter  parsley  leaves,  bespoke  him  thus  :  — '  These 
reeds  the  Muses  present  to  thee,  here  they  are.  The 
same  which  they  gave  the  old  bard  of  Ascra  before 
f  tiiee.  The  same  with  which  he,  as  he  sang  to  them, 
psed  to  bring  stately  unbending  ashes  down  from  the 
/mountain-side.  With  these  do  thou  tell  the  story  of 
the  planting  of  the  Grynean  forest,  and  tell  it  so  that 
there  may  be  no  grove  on  which  Apollo  prides  himself 
^i  more.* 

What  need  to  repeat  how  he  told  of  Scylla,  Nisus' 

daughter,  her  to  whom  the  story  clings,  that,  with  a 

girdle  of  howling  monsters  round  her  beauteous  form, 

she  made  havoc  of  the  Dulichian  vessels,  and  in  the 

depths  of  the  eddying  waters  gave  the  poor  trembling 

sailors  to  be  torn  limb  from  limb  by  the  dogs  of  the  sea  ; 

or  how  he  told  of  Tereus'  transformed  shape,  of  the 

food  and  the  present  which  Philomela  got  ready  for 

him,  of  the  strange  speed  with  which  she  made  for  the 

desert,  and  of  the  wings  on  which  the  unhappy  queen 

hovered  over  the  palace  once  her  own  ? 

/      All  the  themes,  in  short,  to  which,  as  once  sung  by 

I  Phoebus,  Eurotas  listened  in  ecstas}^,  and  bade  his  bays 

I  get  them  by  heart,  Silenus  sings :  the  valleys  feel  the 


ECLOGUE    VI L  27 

shock  of  song  and  pass  it  on  to  the  stars,  till  Vesper 
gave  the  word  to  fold  the  flocks  and  report  the  number, 
and  began  his  unwelcome  march  over  Ol^'mpus. 


ECLOGUE  VII. 
MELIBCEUS. 

Daphnis  happened  just  to  have  seated  himself  under 
a  holm-oak  that  gave  tongue  to  the  wind,  and  Corjdon 
and  ThjTsis  had  driven  their  flocks  to  the  same  spot  — 
Thyrsis'  sheep,  Corydon's  goats  swelling  with  milk  — 
both  in  the  bloom  of  life,  Arcadians  both,  ready  to  sing 
first  or  second  in  a  match.  Just  then,  as  I  was  busy 
sheltering  some  myrtles  from  the  cold,  m}^  he-goat,  the 
lord  and  master  of  the  herd,  had  strayed  to  where  they 
were,  and  I  catch  sight  of  Daphnis.  As  soon  as  he 
meets  my  eye  — '  Quick,'  he  says,  '  come  here,  Meli- 
boeus,  your  goat  and  kids  are  all  safe,  and  if  you  can 
afford  to  be  idle  a  little,  rest  under  the  shade.  Where 
we  are,  your  bullocks  will  come  over  the  meadows  of 
themselves  to  drink  ;  here  is  Mincius  fringing  his  green 
banks  with  a  border  of  soft  waving  reeds,  and  there  is 
a  swarm  humming  from  Jupiter's  favorite  oak.*  What 
was  I  to  do  ?  On  the  one  hand  I  had  no  Alcippe  or 
Phyllis,  to  shut  up  my  new-weaned  lambs  at  home,  and 
the  match  coming  off*,  Corydon  against  Thyrsis,  was 
sure  to  be  great.  However,  I  let  their  play  take 
precedence  of  my  work.  So  in  alternate  songs  they 
began  to  compete.  Alternate  songs  were  what  the 
Muses  within  them  chose  to  recall.  These  were  repeat- 
ed by  Corydon,  those  by  Thyrsis  in  regular  order. 

C  Nymphs  of  Libethra,  my  heart's  delight,  either 
vouchsafe  me  a  strain  such  as  jou  gave  my  Codrus  — 


28  THE  BUCOLICS, 

the  songs  lie  makes  come  next  to  Phoebus'  own  —  or, 
if  such  power  is  not  for  all  of  us,  see,  my  tuneful  pipe 
shall  be  hung  up  here  on  3'our  consecrated  pine. 

T,  Shepherds,  deck  your  rising  poet  with  a  crown  of 
ivy  ;  ye  of  Arcadia,  that  Codrus'  sides  may  burst  with 
envy  ;  or  should  he  try  the  power  of  extravagant  praise, 
bind  foxglove  on  my  brows,  that  the  ill  tongue  may  do 
no  harm  to  the  bard  that  is  to  be. 

C.  This  for  thee,  Delia,  the  head  of  a  bristly  boar, 
from  young  Micon,  and  the  branchy  horns  of  a  long- 
lived  stag.  Should  such  luck  be  secured  to  him  by 
right,  thou  shalt  be  set  up  full  length  in  polished  mar- 
ble, with  purple  buskins  tied  round  thy  legs. 

T.  A  bowl  of  milk  and  these  cakes,  Priapus,  are 
enough  for  thee  to  look  for  year  by  3'ear  ;  the  orchard 
thou  guardest  is  but  a  poor  one,  so  we  have  had  to 
make  thee  marble  with  our  present  means  ;  but  if  this 
3'ear's  births  fill  up  our  herds,  then  be  of  gold. 

G.  Galatea,  child  of  Nereus,  sweeter  to  me  than 
Hybla's  thyme,  whiter  than  the  swan,  more  delicate  than 
the  palest  ivy,  soon  as  the  bullocks  return  home  from 
pasture  to  their  stalls,  if  thou  hast  any  regard  for  thy 
Cory  don,  come,  O  come  ! 

T.  Nay,  rather  think  me  bitterer  than  Sardinian  herb- 
age, rougher  than  gorse,  more  worthless  than  the  weed 
that  rots  on  the  shore,  if  I  do  not  find  this  da^^  longer 
already  than  a  whole  3'ear.  Home  with  you  from  3'our 
pasture  ;  for  shame,  home  with  3-0 u,  lazj^  bullocks  ! 

C.  Mossy  springs,  and  grass  more  downj'-soft  than 
sleep,  and  the  arbute  that  embowers  you  greenly  with 
its  straggling  shade,  keep  the  solstice  heat  from  my 
flock ;  already  summer  is  coming  on  in  its  fierceness, 
already  buds  are  swelling  on  the  vine's  luxuriant 
tendrils. 


ECLOGUE   VII.  29 

T,  Here  we  have  a  good  hearth,  and  pinewood  with 
plenty  of  pitch,  and  a  large  fire  always  blazing,  and  the 
posts  of  our  door  black  with  continual  soot ;  here  as 
we  sit  we  care  for  north  winds  and  cold  weather  about 
as  much  as  the  wolf  for  the  size  of  the  flock,  or  ton-ents 
for  their  banks.      • 

C.  Here  stand  junipers  and  prickly  chestnuts  — 
there  He  the  fruits  of  summer  scattered  each  under  its 
parent  tree  —  just  now  all  nature  is  smiling  ;  but  if  our 
lovely  Alexis  were  to  go  away  from  these  hills  of  ours, 
you  would  see  even  the  rivers  dried  up. 

T,  The  country  is  parched  up ;  the  grass  is  dying 
for  thirst  from  the  sickly  air  ;  the  wine  god  grudges  the 
hills  the  shade  of  the  vine  they  love ;  but  when  my 
own  Phyllis  arrives,  all  the  woodland  shall  be  green 
again,  and  Jupiter  shall  come  down  plenteously  in  fer- 
tilizing showers. 

C  The  poplar  is  the  favorite  of  Alcides,  the  vine  of 
Bacchus,  the  myrtle  of  Venus,  beauty's  queen,  the  bay 
of  Phoebus :  Phyllis'  passion  is  for  the  hazel  —  while 
Phyllis'  passion  lasts,  the  myrtle  shall  not  take  rank 
above  the  hazel,  nor  yet  the  bay  of  Phoebus. 

T.  The  ash  is  the  fairest  in  the  woods,  the  pine  in 
the  gardens,  the  poplar  on  the  river  banks,  the  fir  on 
the  mountain  heights ;  but  if  thou,  Lycidas,  beauty's 
king,  shouldst  visit  me  often  and  often,  the  ash  would 
soon  bow  to  thee  in  the  woods,  the  pine  in  the  gardens. 

M.  So  much  I  remember,  and  how  Th3Tsis  failed  in 
the  match.  From  that  day  forward  it  is  all  Cory  don, 
Corydon  with  us. 


30  THE  BUCOLICS, 

ECLOGUE  VIII. 

PHARMACEUTRIA. 

The  pastoral  Muse  that  inspired  l^amon  and  Alphesi- 
boeus,  at  whose  contention  the  heifer  stood  wondering 
and  forgot  to  graze,  whose  strains  held  l^-nxes  spell- 
bound, and  made  rivers  suffer  change,  and  arrest  their 
flow  —  the  Muse  that  inspired  Damon  and  Alphesiboeus 
shall  be  our  song. 

But  thou,  whether  m}^  heart  is  with  thee  as  thou  art 
surmounting  the  rocks  of  might}'  Timavus  or  coasting 
the  shore  of  the  IlljTian  sea,  will  that  day  ever  come 
that  will  find  me  free  to  tell  of  thy  deeds  ?  Shall  I  ever 
be  free  to  publish  the  whole  world  through  those  strains 
of  thine,  alone  worthy  of  Sophocles'  tragic  march? 
From  thee  is  my  beginning,  for  thee  shall  be  the  end. 
Accept  these  strains  commenced  at  th}-  bidding,  and 
suflfer  this  ivy  to  wind  itself  round  thy  brows  among 
thy  triumphal  baj's. 

Scarce  had  night's  cold  shade  parted  from  the  sky, 
just  at  the  time  that  the  dew  on  the  tender  grass  is 
sweetest  to  the  cattle,  when  leaning  on  his  smooth 
ohve  wand  Damon  thus  began  :  — 

Rise,  Lucifer,  and  usher  in  the  da}",  the  genial  day, 
while  I,  deluded  by  a  bridegroom's  unworthy  passion 
for  my  Nisa,  make  my  complaint,  and  turning  myself 
to  the  gods,  little  as  their  witness  has  stood  me  in 
stead,  address  them  nevertheless,  a  dying  man  at  this 
very  last  hour.  Take  up  with  me,  my  pipe,  the  song 
of  Msenalus. 

Msenalus  it  is  whose  forests  are  ever  tuneful,  and  his 
pines  ever  vocal ;  he  is  ever  listening  to  the  loves  of 


ECLOGUE    VIII.  31 

shepherds,  and  to  Pan,  the  first  who  would  not  have 
the  reeds  left  unemployed.  Take  up  with  me,  my  pipe, 
the  song  of  Maenalus. 

Mopsus  has  Nisa  given  him  :  what  may  not  we  lovers 
expect  to  see  ?  Matches  will  be  made  by  this  between 
griffins  and  horses,  and  in  the  age  to  come  hounds  will 
accompany  timid  does  to  their  draught.  Mopsus,  cut 
fresh  brands  for  to-night ;  it  is  to  you  thej^  are  bringing 
home  a  wife.  Fling  about  nuts  as  a  bridegroom  should  5 
it  is  for  you  that  Hesperus  is  leaving  his  rest  on  (Eta. 
Take  up  with  me,  my  pipe,  the  song  of  Maenalus. 

O  worthy  mate  of  a  worthy  lord  !  There  as  you 
look  down  on  all  the  world,  and  are  disgusted  with  m}^ 
pipe  and  mj-  goats,  and  my  shaggy  brow,  and  this 
beard  that  I  let  grow,  and  do  not  believe  that  any  god 
cares  aught  for  the  things  of  men.  Take  up  with  me, 
my  pipe,  the  song  of  Maenalus. 

It  was  in  our  enclosure  I  saw  j^ou  gathering  apples 
with  the  dew  on  them.  I  m3'self  showed  3'ou  the  way, 
in  company  with  my  mother — my  twelfth  year  had 
just  bidden  me  enter  on  it.  I  could  just  reach  from  the 
ground  to  the  boughs  that  snapped  so  easily.  What  a 
sight !  what  ruin  to  me  !  what  a  fatal  frenzy  swept  me 
away !  Take  up  with  me,  my  pipe,  the  song  of 
Maenalus. 

Now  know  I  what  love  is  ;  it  is  among  savage  rocks 
that  he  is  produced  by  Tmarus,  or  Ehodope,  or  the 
Garamantes  at  earth's  end ;  no  child  of  lineage  or 
blood  like  ours.  Take  up  with  me,  my  pipe,  the  song 
of  Maenalus. 

Love,  the  cruel  one,  taught  the  mother  to  imbrue 
her  hands  in  her  children's  blood  ;  hard  too  was  thy 
heart,  mother.  Was  the  mother's  heart  harder,  or  the 
boy  god's  malice  more  wanton  ?    Walton  was  the  boy 


32  THE  BUCOLICS. 

god's  malice ;  hard  too  thy  heart,  mother.  Take  up 
with  me,  m}^  pipe,  the  song  of  Msenalus. 

Aye,  now  let  the  wolf  even  run  away  from  the  sheep  ; 
let  golden  apples  grow  out  of  the  tough  heart  of  oak ; 
let  narcissus  blossom  on  the  alder ;  let  the  tamarisk's 
bark  sweat  rich  drops  of  amber ;  rivalry  let  there  be 
between  swans  and  screechowls ;  let  Tityrus  become 
Orpheus  —  Orpheus  in  the  woodland,  Arion  among  the 
dolphins.  Take  up  with  me,  my  pipe,  the  song  of 
Msenalus. 

Nay,  let  all  be  changed  to  the  deep  sea.  Farewell, 
ye  woods !  Headlong  from  the  airy  mountain's  watch- 
tower  I  will  plunge  into  the  waves ;  let  this  come  to 
her  as  the  last  gift  of  the  djing.  Cease,  my  pipe,  cease 
at  length  the  song  of  Maenalus. 

Thus  far  Damon  ;  for  the  reply  of  Alphesiboeus,  do 
ye  recite  it,  Pierian  maids ;  it  is  not  for  all  of  us  to 
have  command  of  all. 

Bring  out  water  and  bind  the  altars  here  with  a  soft 
woolen  fillet,  and  burn  twigs  full  of  sap  and  male 
frankincense,  that  I  may  try  the  effect  of  magic  rites  in 
turning  my  husband's  mind  fro^  its  soberness  ;  there  is 
nothing  but  charms  wanting  here.  Bring  me  home 
from  the  town,  my  charms,  bring  me  my  Daphnis. 

Charms  have  power  even  to  draw  the  moon  down 
from  heaven ;  by  charms  Circe  transformed  the  com- 
panions of  Ulysses ;  the  cold  snake  as  he  lies  in  the 
fields  is  burst  asunder  by  chanting  charms.  Bring  me 
home  from  the  town,  my  charms,  bring  me  my  Daphnis. 

These  three  threads  distinct  with  three  colors  I  wind 
round  thee  first,  and  thrice  draw  the  image  round  the 
altar  thus ;  heaven  delights  in  an  uneven  number. 
Twine  in  three  knots,  Amaryllis,  the  three  colors  ;  twine 
them,   Amaryllis,   do,   and   say,    '  I  am   twining  the 


ECLOGUE    VTIL  33 

bonds  of  Love.'     Bring  me  home  from  the  town,  my 
charms,  bring  me  my  Daphnis. 

Just  as  this  cla}'  is  hardened,  and  this  wax  melted, 
b}^  one  and  the  same  fire,  so  may  my  love  act  doubly 
on  Daphnis.  Crumble  the  salt  cake,  and  kindle  the 
crackling  bay  leaves  with  bitumen.  Daphnis,  the 
wretch,  is  setting  me  on  fire  ;  I  am  setting  this  bay  on 
fire  about  Daphnis.  Bring  me  home  from  the  town,  my 
charms,  bring  me  my  Daphnis. 

May  such  be  Daphnis'  passion,  like  a  heifer's,  T#ien, 
weary  of  looking  for  her  mate  through  groves  and  tall 
forests,  she  throws  herself  down  by  a  stream  of  water 
on  the  green  sedge,  all  undone,  and  forgets  to  rise  and 
make  waj'  for  the  fargone  night  —  may  such  be  his  en- 
thralling passion,  nor  let  me  have  a  mind  to  relieve  it. 
Bring  me  home  from  the  town,  my  charms,  bring  me 
my  Daphnis. 

These  cast-off  relics  that  faithless  one  left  me  days 
ago,  precious  pledges  for  himself,  them  I  now  intrust  to 
thee,  Earth,  burying  them  even  on  the  threshold  ;  thej^ 
are  bound  as  pledges  to  give  me  back  Daphnis.  Bring 
me  home  from  the  town,  my  charms,  bring  me  my 
Daphnis. 

These  plants  and  these  poisons  culled  from  Pontus  I 
had  from  Mseris'  own  hand.  They  grow  in  plent}^  at 
Pontus.  By  the  strength  of  these  often  I  have  seen 
Mseris  turn  to  a  wolf  and  plunge  into  the  forest,  often 
call  up  spirits  from  the  bottom  of  the  tomb,  and  remove 
standing  crops  from  one  field  to  another.  Bring  me 
home  from  the  town,  my  charms,  bring  me  my  Daphnis. 

Carry  the  embers  out  of  doors,  Amaryllis,  and  fling 

them  into  the  running  stream  over  your  head  ;  and  do 

not  look  behind  you.     This  shall  be  my  device  against 

Daphnis.     As  for  gods  or  charms,  he  cares  for  none  of 

3 


34  THE  BUCOLICS. 

them.     Bring  me  home   from  the   town,  my  charms, 
bring  me  my  Daphnis. 

Look,  look !  the  flickering  flame  has  caught  the  altar 
of  its  own  accord,  shot  up  from  the  embers,  before  I 
have  had  time  to  take  them  up,  all  of  themselves. 
Good  luck,  I  trust !  .  .  .  Yes,  there  is  something,  I 
am  sure  .  .  .  and  Hylax  is  barking  at  the  gate.  Can 
I  trust  myself?  or  is  it  that  lovers  make  their  own 
dreams  ?  Stop,  he  is  coming  from  town ;  stop  now, 
chaAis,  my  Daphnis ! 


ECLOGUE  IX. 

M^RIS. 

L.  Whither  away  on  foot,  Mseris ;  following  the  road 
to  the  town  ? 

M,  O  Lj'cidas  !  we  have  been  kept  on  alive,  to  hear 
a  stranger  .  .  .  what  our  fears  never  looked  for  .  .  . 
now,  owner  of  our  little  farm,  say  to  us,  '  I  am  master 
here  ;  you  old  tenants,  take  yourselves  away  ; '  and  so 
now,  beaten  and  cowed,  since  Fortune's  wheel  is  on  the 
roll  everywhere,  we  are  carrying  him  these  kids,  with  a 
mischief  to  him. 

L.  Why,  surely  I  had  heard  that  all  the  land  from 
where  the  hills  begin  to  draw  themselves  up  from  the 
plain,  and  then  let  down  the  ridge  with  a  gentle  slope,  on 
to  the  water,  and  those  old  beeches  with  their  battered 
tops,  your  Menalcas  had  succeeded  in  saving  by  his 
songs. 

M,  Aye,  so  you  had,  and  so  the  story  went ;  but  our 
(  songs,  I  can  tell  you,  Lycidas,  have  as  much  power  in 
i  the  clatter  of  weapons  of  war  as  the  doves  of  Chaonia, 
I   they  say,  have  when  the  eagle  is  coming.     So  if  I  had 


ECLOGUE  IX.  35 

not  been  warned  beforehand  anyhow  to  cut  this  new 
quarrel  short  by  the  raven  on  the  left  from  the  hollow 
holm-oak,  you  would  not  have  seen  your  servant  Maeris 
here,  nor  Menalcas  himself  alive. 

L.  Alas !  could  any  one  be  guilty  of  such  a  crime  ? 
alas  !  were  we  so  nearlj^  losing  all  the  comfort  you  give 
us,  along  with  3'ourself,  Menalcas?  Who  would  there 
be  to  sing  of  the  nymphs  ?  Who  to  sow  the  turf  with 
flowers  and  herbage,  and  embower  the  springs  in  green 
shade  ?  Or  who  would  give  us  songs  like  that  I  caught 
slily  from  you  the  other  day  when  you  were  making  your 
way  to  that  darling  Amarylhs  of  ours  ?  —  '  Tityrus, 
whilst  I  come  back  —  it  will  not  be  long  —  feed  my 
goats  for  me  ;  and  when  fed  drive  them  to  water,  Tity- 
rus, and  in  driving  them  don't  come  across  the  he-goat 
—  he  has  a  trick  of  butting,  beware.' 

M.  Or  this,  j^ou  might  have  said,  the  song  he  was 
making  for  Varus  and  had  not  finished  :  — '  Varus,  thy 
name  —  only  let  Mantua  be  spared  us ;  Mantua,  too 
near  a  neighbor,  alas !  to  ill-starred  Cremona  —  our 
swans  in  their  songs  shall  carry  aloft  to  the  stars.' 

X.  If  you  would  have  your  swarms  fail  to  light  on  the 
yews  of  Corsica,  and  your  heifers  swell  their  udders 
with  milk  from  browsing  on  lucern,  begin  with  anything 
you  have  in  your  mind.  I,  too,  have  been  made  a  poet 
by  the  Muses,  and  have  verses,  too,  of  my  own.  I  am 
called  a  bard  myself  by  the  shepherds,  but  I  have  no 
mind  to  trust  them  ;  for  as  j^et  I  cannot  think  my  sing- 
ing worthy  of  Varius  or  of  Cinna ;  no,  it  is  the  mere 
cackling  of  a  goose  among  the  melody  of  swans. 

M.  That  is  what  I  am  tr3'ing  to  do,  turning  over  in 
m3"  mind,  Lycidas,  while  you  have  been  speaking,  in  the 
hope  of  being  able  to  recollect ;  for  it  is  no  vulgar  song. 
'  Hither  to  me,  Galatea !  why,  what  sport  can  there  be 


S6  '  THE  BUCOLICS. 

in  the  water?  Here  are  the  glorious  hues  of  spring, 
here  is  the  ground  pouring  forth  flowers  of  all  dyes  on 
the  river-bank,  here  is  the  fair  white  poplar  stooping 
over  the  cave,  and  the  limber  vines  weaving  a  bower 
of  shelter.  Hither  to  me,  and  let  the  mad  waves  beat 
the  shore  as  they  please.' 

L,  What  of  the  song  I  heard  j^ou  singing  that  clear 
night  all  alone?  I  remember  the  tune  if  I  could  but 
get  the  words. 

M.  '  Daphnis,  why  that  upturned  look  at  the  old  con- 
stellations rising  ?  See,  the  star  of  Caesar,  Dione's  dar- 
ling, has  begun  its  march — a  star  to  make  the  corn-fields 
glad  with  produce,  and  the  color  deepen  on  the  grape  in 
the  sunny  hills.  Graft  your  pears,  Daphnis,  and  spare 
not ;  the  fruit  you  grow  will  be  gathered  by  the  next 
generation.'  Everything  goes  with  time,  the  brain 
among  the  rest.  Many  were  the  long  summer  days,  I 
remember,  I  used  to  send  to  their  grave  with  singing  as 
a  boy,  and  now  all  m}'  store  of  songs  is  forgotten.  Na}^ 
Mseris'  voice  is  taking  leave  of  him  too ;  wolves  have 
set  ej^es  on  Maeris  first.  But  what  you  want  you  can 
hear  repeated  often  enough  b}-  Menalcas. 

X.  All  3'our  put-oflTs  only  make  my  longing  greater. 
Besides,  just  now  the  sea  is  all  laid  and  hushed  to  hear 
3^ou,  and  ever}^  breath  of  murmuring  wind,  as  j^ou  may 
see,  has  fallen  dead.  Here  we  are  just  half-way,  for  the 
tomb  of  Bianor  is  becoming  visible ;  here,  where  the 
husbandmen  are  lopping  those  thick  leaves  ;  here,  Mseris, 
let  us  stop  and  sing  ;  here  put  your  kids  down  ;  we  shall 
get  to  the  town  for  all  that ;  or,  if  we  are  afraid  that 
night  will  get  up  a  shower  first,  there  is  nothing  to 
hinder  our  singing  —  it  makes  the  journe^^  hurt  less  — 
as  we  go  right  on.  So  now,  that  we  ma}-  sing  as  we 
go,  I  will  relieve  you  of  this  load  of  yours. 


ECLOGUE  X.  37 

M,  Press  me  no  more,  my  boy  ;  let  us  think  only  of 
what  is  before  us ;  the  songs  we  shall  have  a  better 
voice  for  when  we  see  Mm  with  us  again. 


ECLOGUE  X. 

GALLUS. 

This  my  last  effort,  Arethusa,  do  thou  vouchsafe  me. 
A  song  for  my  Gallus,  brief,  yet  such  as  may  win  even 
Lycoris'  ear,  I  have  to  sing  —  who  would  refuse  a  song 
to  Gallus?  If,  as  thou  glidest  under  the  Sicilian  bil- 
lows, thou  wouldest  not  have  the  salt  goddess  of  Ocean 
mingle  her  waters  with  thine,  begin  the  lay  ;  let  its  theme 
be  Gallus'  vexing  passion,  while  the  silly  flat-nosed 
goats  are  browsing  on  the  growing  brakes.  Our  songs 
are  not  to  deaf  ears  :  every  note  is  echoed  by  the  woods. 

Whatiforests,  what  lawns  were  3'our  abode,  virgin 
nymphs  of  the  fountains,  when  Gallus  was  wasting  under 
an  unworthy  passion?  What  indeed?  for  it  was  not  any 
spot  in  the  ridges  of  Parnassus  or  of  Pindus  that  kept 
3^ou  there ;  no,  nor  Aonian  Aganippe.  Yet  over  him 
even  the  bays,  even  the  tamarisks  shed  their  tears  ;  over 
him  as  he  lay  under  the  lonely  rock  even  the  pine-crowned 
head  of  Msenalus  shed  a  tear,  and  the  dull  stones  of  cold 
Lycseus.  There,  too,  standing  about  him  are  his  sheep  ; 
they  are  not  ashamed  of  humanity,  nor  do  thou  be 
ashamed  of  thy  flock,  heavenl}^  poet  as  thou  art ;  even 
Adonis  in  his  beauty  once  fed  sheep  b}^  the  water.  Up 
came  the  shepherd  too  :  slowly  up  came  the  swineherds  ; 
dripping  from  the  winter's  mast  up  came  Menalcas. 
Every  mouth  cries.  Whence  this  passion  of  thine?  Up 
came  Apollo  —  Gallus,  says  he,  why  be  a  madman?  thy 
heart's  queen,  Ly coils,  has  braved  the  snow  and  the 


38  THE  BUCOLICS. 

savage  life  of  camps  to  follow  another.  Up,  too,  came 
Silvanus  with  his  woodland  honors  green  on  his  brow, 
nodding  his  fennels  in  bloom  and  his  giant  lilies.  Pan 
came,  Arcadia's  own  god;  him  we  saw  with  our. own 
eyes,  crimsoned  all  over  with  blood-red  elderberries  and 
vermilion.  Is  there  ever  to  be  an  end  of  this?  he  cries. 
As  for  Love,  such  things  move  him  not.  Tears  will  no 
more  sate  Love's  cruelty  than  sluices  will  3' our  grass, 
or  lucern  3'our  bees,  or  fodder  3'our  goats.  His  answer 
came  with  a  sigh  —  You  will  sing  of  me  though.  Arca- 
dians, when  I  am  gone,  in  the  ears  of  your  mountains  ; 
none  know  how  to  sing  but  Arcadians.  O  how  soft  a 
sleep  would  my  bones  enjoy,  could  I  but  feel  that  a  pipe 
of  3'ours  one  da^^  would  tell  of  my  passion !  Nay, 
indeed,  would  that  I  had  been  one  of  3'ou  m3^self — the 
shepherd  of  a  flock  of  3^ours,  or  the  dresser  of  those  full 
ripe  grapes  !  Then  at  least,  whether  it  had  been  Ph3ilis, 
or  Amyntas,  or  an3^  other  love ;  and  what  if  ^myntas 
be  brown?  violets  are  dark  too,  and  so  are  h3^acinths 
dark  —  I  should  have  had  them  ever  by  my  side,  among 
the  willows,  under  the  limber  vine ;  PhyUis  plucking  me 
flowers  for  a  wreath,  Amyntas  singing.  See,  here  are 
cold  springs  and  soft  meadows,  Lycoris,  and  a  forest 
of  trees ;  here  I  could  wear  away  with  thee  by  mere 
lapse  of  time.  And  now  this  mad  passion  for  the  sav- 
age war-god  is  keeping  me  here  in  arms,  with  weapons 
all  about  me  and  enemies  drawn  up  before  me,  while 
thou,  far  away  from  th3'  native  land  —  would  it  were 
not  mine  to  beheve  the  tale  —  art  looking  with  those 
cruel,  cruel  e3^es  on  the  Alpine  snows  and  the  frost-bound 
Rhine,  alone  without  me  at  thy  side.  Oh  !  may  the  frost 
forbear  to  harm  thee !  may  the  sharp  ice  be  kept  from 
wounding  thy  tender  feet !  I  will  be  gone,  and  set  the 
strains  which  I  have  framed  in  the  measure  of  Chalcis 


ECLOGUE   X. 


39 


to  the  reed  of  the  Sicilian  shepherd.  Sure  am  I  that  it 
will  be  better  to  bear  1113^  fate  in  the  woods,  with  the 
dens  of  wild  beasts  round  me,  and  engrave  m}-  love  on 
the  5'oung  growing  trees ;  they  will  shoot  up,  and  my 
love  will  shoot  up  with  them.  Meantime  I  will  scour 
Maenalus  along  with  the  nymphs,  or  have  a  hunt  of  fierce 
boars.  No  stress  of  winter  shall  keep  me  from  besetting 
with  my  hounds  the  lawns  of  mount  Parthenius.  Yes, 
I  can  see  myself  already  on  the  move  over  rocks  or 
amid  the  cry  of  the  woods  ;  I  feel  the  pleasure  of  wing- 
ing shafts  of  Cydon  from  a  bow  of  Parthia,  as  though  ^ 
this  were  a  medicine  for  madness  like  mine,  or  that  ^ 
tjTant  god  would  ever  learn  compassion  for  human 
suffering  !  It  is  gone  —  wood  nj-mphs  have  no  charm 
for  me  now,  nor  songs  either.  Woodlands,  I  must 
part  from  you,  too,  now.  He  is  a  god  whom  no  en- 
durance of  ours  can  change.  No,  not  if  in  midwinter 
we  were  to  drink  the  waters  of  Hebrus,  or  submit  our- 
selves to  the  snows  of  Sithonia  and  its  sleety  cold.  All 
are  conquered  by  Love  ;  and  let  us,  too,  yield  ourselves 
Love's  captives. 

Let  thus  much  suffice.  Goddesses,  for  your  poet's 
song,  sung  as  he  sits  and  weaves  a  basket  of  slender 
willow.  Goddesses  of  Pieria,  you  will  enhance  its  worth 
to  the  highest  in  Gallus's  eyes.  Gallus,  the  love  of 
whom  grows  on  me  hour  by  hour  as  fast  as  the  green 
alder  shoots  up  from  the  earth  when  the  spring  is  new. 
Now  let  us  rise  ;  there  is  apt  to  be  danger  to  singers  in 
the  shade ;  danger  in  the  juniper's  shade,  and  crops  too 
sufler  from  shade.  Home  with  you,  such  a  meal  as  you 
have  eaten.  Hesper  is  coming,  home  with  you,  my 
goats. 


THE  GEORGICS. 


BOOK  I. 

What  makes  a  corn-field  smile  ;  what  star  suits  best 
for  turning  up  the  soil,  and  marrying  the  vine  to  the 
elm  ;  what  care  oxen  need  ;  what  is  the  method  of  breed- 
ing cattle ;  and  what  weight  of  men's  experience  pre- 
serves the  frugal  commonwealth  of  bees :  such  is  the 
song  I  now  essa3\  Brightest  lights  of  the  world,  that 
guide  the  j^ear's  smooth  course  through  heaven  :  father 
Liber  and  mother  Ceres  ;  if  it  was  by  your  bounty  that 
Earth  changed  the  acorn  of  Chaonia  for  the  plump  well- 
favored  corn-ear,  and  found  the  grape  wiierewith  to 
temper  her  draught  of  Achelous :  you  too,  Fauns,  the 
countryman's  propitious  deities,  trip  hither  in  time, 
Fauns  and  Drj^ad  maidens,  I  sing  of  your  bount}^  too : 
and  thon,  for  whom  Earth  first  teemed  forth  the  fiery 
horse  under  the  stroke  of  thy  might^^  trident,  Neptune  ; 
and  thou,  dresser  of  woods  and  groves,  to  pleasure 
whom  Ceos'  luxuriant  brakes  are  browsed  b}'  three  hun- 
dred snow-white  bullocks  ;  come  thou,  too,  in  thy  power, 
from  thy  forest  home  and  the  Lj^caean  lawns.  Pan,  tender 
of  sheep,  by  the  love  thou  bearest  thy  Msenalus,  O  stand 
graciousl}^  at  my  side,  god  of  Tegea  ;  and  thou,  Minerva, 
who  foundest  the  olive  for  man  ;  and  thou,  blessed  youth, 
who  showedst  him  the  crooked  plough ;  and  Silvanus, 
carrying  a  young  cypress,  fresh  torn  up  by  its  roots  — 
gods  and  goddesses  all,  whose  province  is  the  guardian- 
ship of  the  country  —  both  ye  who  foster  the  new-born 

40 


BOOK  L  41 

produce  that  springs  up  unsown,  and  3'e  who  send  down 
on  the  sown  crop  plenteous  rain  from  heaven.  And 
thou,  last  not  least,  of  whom  we  know  not  in  what 
house  of  gods  thou  art  in  good  time  to  sit  —  whether 
it  be  our  Caesar's  pleasure  to  preside  over  cities  and 
take  charge  of  the  earth,  that  so  the  vast  world  may 
welcome  thee  as  the  giver  of  its  increase,  and  lord  of 
its  changeful  seasons,  crowning  th}'  brows  with  thy 
mother's  own  mj^tle  ;  or  whether  thy  coming  shall  be 
as  the  god  of  the  unmeasured  sea,  the  sole  power  to 
claim  the  seaman's  homage,  with  furthest  Thule  for  thy 
handmaid,  and  Tethys,  buying  thee  for  her  daughter 
with  the  dower  of  all  her  waves ;  or  whether  thou  art 
to  give  us  a  new  star  to  quicken  our  lazy  months,  just 
where  a  space  opens  itself  between  Erigone  and  the 
Claws  that  come  next  in  order :  —  see,  there  is  the  fiery 
Scorpion,  already  drawing  in  his  arms  for  thee,  and 
leaving  thee  more  than  thy  fair  share  of  the  sky.  / 
Whatever  thy  future  place  —  for  let  not  Tartarus  hope 
to  have  thee  for  its  king,  nor  mayest  thou  ever  feel  so 
monstrous  an  ambition  ;  though  Greece  see  charms  in 
her  Elysian  fields,  and  Proserpine,  spite  of  her  mother's 
journey,  refuse  to  follow  her  back  to  earth  —  vouchsafe 
me  a  smooth  course,  and  smile  on  my  bold  endeavors, 
and  in  pity,  like  mine,  for  the  countryman  as  he  wan- 
ders blind  and  unguided,  assume  the  god,  and  attune 
thine  ear  betimes  to  the  voice  of  pra3'er. 

In  the  dawn  of  spring,  when  ic}^  streams  trickle  melt- 
ing from  the  hoar  mountains,  and  the  crumbling  clod 
breaks  its  chain  at  the  west  wind's  touch,  even  then  I 
would  fain  see  the  plough  driven  deep  till  the  bull  groans 
again,  and  the  share  rubbed  in  the  furrow  till  it  shines,  x 
That  is  the  corn-field  to  give  an  answer,  full  though  late, 
to  the  grasping  farmer's  pra}  er,  which  has  twice  been 


42  THE  GEORGICS. 

laid  bare  to  summer  heat,  and  twice  to  winter  cold  — 
that  is  the  corn-field  to  burst  the  barns  with  its  un- 
measured crop.  Before,  however,  our  share  breaks  the 
crust  of  an  unknown  soil,  our  care  should  be  to  under- 
stand the  winds,  and  the  divers  humors  of  the  sky,  and 
tl>e  traditional  culture  and  habitude  of  the  land,  what 
each  clime  produces  and  what  each  disowns.  Here  you 
see  corn  crops,  there  grapes  have  kindlier  growth :  other 
spots  are  green  with  the  j'oung  of  trees  and  grass  that 
comes  unbidden.  Onl}^  see  how  it  is  Tmolus  that  sends 
us  its  saffron  fragrance,  India  its  ivory,  the  soft  Arab 
his  frankincense,  the  great  naked  Chalybs,  again,  his 
iron,  Pontus  its  potent  castor,  Epirus  the  prizes  of  the 
mares  of  Elis !  Such  is  the  chain  of  law,  such  the 
eternal  covenant  with  which  Nature  has  bound  certain 
climes,  from  the  day  when  Deucalion  first  hurled  his 
stones  on  the  unpeopled  earth  —  stones,  whence  sprang 
man's  race,  hard  as  the3\  Come,  then,  and  let  your 
rich  soil,  soon  as  ever  the  year  begins,  be  turned  up  by 
the  bullock's  strength  —  let  the  clods  be  exposed  for 
Summer  to  bake  them  to  dust  with  its  full  mellow  suns  ; 
but  if  the  land  be  not  fertile,  be  content  to  wait  till 
Arcturus,  and  then  just  raise  the  surface  wdth  a  shallow 
furrow  —  in  the  one  case,  that  a  luxuriant  crop  may 
not  be  choked  with  weeds  ;  in  the  other,  that  the  barren 
seed  ma}'  not  lose  the  little  moisture  it  has. 

Moreover,  in  alternate  years,  you  will  let  j^our  fields 
lie  fallow  after  reaping,  and  suffer  the  scurf  to  harden 
on  the  inactive  plain  ;  or  you  will  sow  your  golden  spelt 
when  another  star  arises  ;  where  you  lately  took  off  the 
rattling  pods  of  a  luxuriant  bean  crop,  or  the  yield  of 
the  slender  vetch  and  the  bitter  lupine's  brittle  stems 
and  echoing  jungle.  For  a  plain  is  parched  b}^  a  crop 
of  flax ;   parched  by  the  oat,  parched  by  the   poppy 


k 


\ 


BOOK  I.  43 

steeped  in  slumberous  Lethe.  Yet  rotation  will  lighten 
the  strain ;  only  think  of  the  dried-up  soil,  and  be  not 
afraid  to  give  it  its  fill  of  rich  manure  —  think  of  the 
exhausted  field,  and  fling  about  the  grimy  ashes  broad- 
cast. Then,  under  the  change  of  produce,  the  land 
gets  equal  rest,  and  you  escape  the  thanklessness  of  an 
unploughed  soil.  Oft,  too,  has  it  been  found  of  use  to 
set  a  barren  field  on  fire,  and  let  the  crackling  flames 
burn  up  the  light  stubble.  Whether  it  be  that  the  land 
derives  hidden  strength  and  fattening  nourishment  from 
the  process,  or  that  the  fire  bakes  out  any  distemper  it 
may  have,  and  sweats  out  its  superfluous  moisture,  or 
that  the  heat  opens  fresh  passages  and  secret  apertures 
through  which  life-juice  ma}^  come  to  the  tender  blades, 
or  that  it  makes  the  land  harder,  and  binds  up  its  gap- 
ing pores  that  so  the  subtle  shower  and  the  fierce  sun*s 
unusual  tyranny,  and  the  north  wind's  searching  cold 
may  have  no  power  to  parch  it  to  tlie  quick.  Great, 
aye,  great  are  his  services  to  the  land  who  breaks  up 
its  sluggish  clods  with  the  harrow,  and  drags  over  them 
his  wicker  hurdles  :  the  golden  corn-goddess  e3^es  him 
from  her  Olympian  height  with  no  idle  regard  ;  great, 
too,  his,  who  having  once  broken  through  the  land's 
crust,  and  made  it  lift  its  ridgy  back,  turns  his  plough, 
and  drives  through  it  a  second  time  crosswise,  and  plies 
earth  again  and  again,  and  bows  her  fields  to  his  will. 

A  wet  summer  and  a  fine  winter  should  be  the  farm- 
er's prayer.  From  winter's  dust  comes  great  jo}^  to  the 
corn,  joy  to  the  land.  No  tillage  gives  Mysia  such 
cause  for  boasting,  or  Gargarus  for  wondering  at  his 
own  harvest..  Why  talk  of  the  man  who  having  cast  his 
seed,  follows  up  the  blow  with  his  rake,  and  levels  the 
bare  sandy  ridges,  and  then  when  the  corn  is  springing 
up,  brings  on  its  streaming  waters,  that  follow  as  he 


44  ^  THE  GEORGICS. 

leads  ;  and  when  the  scorched  land  is  in  a  glow,  and  the 
corn-blades  djing  —  0  joy!  from  the  brow  of  the 
channeled  slope  entices  the  floods  ?  See  !  down  it  tum- 
bles, waking  hoarse  murmurs  among  the  smooth  stones, 
and  allaying  the  sunstruck  ground  as  it  bubbles  on. 
Why  talk  of  him,  who  in  his  care  lest  the  weight  of  the 
ear  should  overbear  the  stems,  grazes  down  the  luxuri- 
ance of  the  crop  while  yet  in  the  blade,  when  the 
springing  corn  has  just  reached  the  furrow's  top  ;  or  of 
him,  who. drains  oflT  the  whole  watery  contents  of  a 
marsh  by  absorbent  sand  —  especially  where,  in  the 
treacherous  seasons,  a  river  overflows,  and  covers  whole 
acres  with  a  coat  of  mud,  making  the  hollow  furrows 
steam  again  with  the  reeking  moisture  ? 

Do  not  think  either,  after  all  that  the  labor  of  man 
and  beast  has  goile  through  in  turning  the  soil  over  and 
over,  that  no  harm  is  to  be  feared  from  the  tormenting 
goose,  the  crane  from  the  Str3'mon,  or  the  bitter  fibers 
of  chicory ;  no  injury  from  excess  of  shade.  No,  the 
wise  Father  of  all  has  willed  that  the  farmer's  path 
should  be  no  easy  one.  He  was  the  first  to  break  up 
the  land  by  human  skill,  using  care  to  sharpen  men's 
wits,  nor  letting  the  realm  he  had  made  his  own  grow 
dull  under  the  weight  of  lethargy.  Before  Jove's  time 
never  husbandman  subdued  the  country.  Even  to  set 
a  mark  on  the  champaign  or  divide  it  with  a  boundary 
line  was  a  thing  unlawful.  Men's  gettings  were  for  the 
common  stock,  and  earth  of  her  own  free  will  produced 
everything,  and  that  more  freely  than  now,  though  none 
asked  it  of  her.  He  it  was  that  gave  the  black  snake 
its  ballful  venom,  and  ordered  the  wolf  to  prowl  and 
the  sea  to  swell,  stripped  the  leaves  of  their  honey, 
and  put  the  fire  away,  and  stopped  the  wine  that  used 
to    flow    in    common  '  river-beds  —  that    experience. 


BOOK  I.  45 

through  patient  thought,  might  hammer  out  divers  arts 
by  slow  degrees  —  might  get  at  the  corn-blade  by  delv- 
ing the  furrow,  and  smite  out  from  the  heart  of  the  flint 
the  hidden  fire.  Then  it  was  that  the  hollowed  alder 
first  touched  the  river  —  then  the  mariner  numbered  and 
named  the  stars  —  Pleiades,  and  Hyades,  and  Lj^caon's 
glittering  child,  the  Bear.  Then  men  found  how  to  cap- 
ture game  with  the  noose,  to  beguile  them  with  lime, 
and  how  to  let  their  hounds  round  the  mighty  lawns. 
And  one  man  has  learned  already  to  flog  a  wide  river  with 
his  casting  net,  making  for  the  deep,  while  another  is 
dragging  his  dripping  meshes  through  the  sea.  Then 
came  stubborn  iron  and  the  thin  creaking  saw  —  for  the 
first  men  clove  their  wood  with  the  wedge  —  then  came 
the  divers  arts  of  life.  So  Toil  conquered  the  world, 
relentless  Toil,  and  Want  that  grinds  in  adversity. 

Ceres  was  the  first  to  'teach  men  to  break  up  the  earth 
with  iron,  in  da3's  when  the  sacred  forests  had  begun  to 
fall  short  in  acorns  and  arbutes,  and  Dodona  to  withhold 
her  sustenance.  Soon,  however,  the  wheat  had  plagues 
of  its  own  —  the  baleful  mildew  was  bidden  to  eat  the 
stems,  and  the  laz}^  thistle  to  set  up  its  spikes  in  the 
fields.  The  crops  begin  to  die,  and  a  prickly  jungle 
steals  into  their  place,  burrs,  caltrops  and  the  like  ;  and 
among  the  glistening  corn  towers  like  a  king  the  un- 
kindl}'  darnel  and  the  unfruitful  oat.  So,  unless  3'our 
rake  is  ever  ready  to  exterminate  weeds,  your  shout  to 
scare  awa}*  birds,  your  hook  to  restrain  the  shade  which 
darkens  the  land,  and  your  pra3'ers  to  call  down  rain, 
poor  man,  you  will  gaze  on_your  neighbor's  big  heap  of 
grain  with  unavailing  env3\  Betake  3'ourself  to  the 
woods  again,  and  shake  the  oak  to  allay  j^our  hunger.. 

I  must  tell  you,  too,  what  are  the  stout  farmer's 
weapons  of  war,  without  whose  aid  none  has  ever  sown 


46  THE  GEORGICS, 

or  raised  a  crop.  First  the  share,  and  the  bent  plough's 
heavy  wood,  and  the  slow  lumbering  wains  of  the  mighty 
Mother  of  Eleusis,  sledges  and  ^rags,  and  the  rakes 
with  their  cruel  weight,  and  the  cheap  wicker-work  fur- 
niture of  Celeus,  bush-harrows  of  arbute  twigs,  and 
lacchus*  mj^stic  fan  —  implements  these  which  3'ou  will 
remember  to  store  up  long  before  the  da}^  of  need,  if 
you  are  destined  to  win  and  wear  the  full  glories  of  the 
divine  countr3\  From  its  3'outh  up  in  the  woods  the 
i^yiO^j  elm  is  bent  by  main  force  and  trained  into  a  beam, 
taking  the  form  of  the  crooked  plough  ;  to  suit  this  a 
pole  is  shaped,  stretching  eight  feet  in  length  with  two 
earth-boards,  and  a  share-beam  with  its  back  on  each 
side.  So  the  light  linden  tree  is  cut  down  betimes  for 
the  yoke,  and  the  tall  beech  which  is  to  be  the  handle 
to  guide  the  carriage  from  behind,  and  the  wood  is 
hung  up  over  the  hearth  for  the  smoke  to  season  it. 

I  could  repeat  to  you  many  rules  of  old  experience, 
but  I  see  you  §tart  off  and  wear^^  of  listening  to  such 
pett}^  cares.  The  threshing-floor  in  particular  has  to  be 
smoothed  with  a  heavy  roller,  kneaded  with  the  hand, 
and  made  solid  with  astringent  chalk,  lest  weeds 
should  creep  into  it,  or  dust  get  into  it  and  break  it 
into  holes,  and  then  all  manner  of  plagues  make  their 
game  of  it  —  the  tiny  mouse  for  example  often  sets  up 
a  home  and  builds  a  granary  underground,  or  the  blind 
mole  scrapes  out  a  lurking-place,  or  toads  are  found  in 
the  hollows,  and  all  the  other  loathl}^  creatures  that  the 
earth  produces,  and  ravages  are  made  in  a  huge  heap 
of  corn  by  the  weevil,  and  the  ant  which  ever  fears  for 
an  old  age  of  poverty. 

Observe,  too,  when  the  walnut-tree  in  the  plantation 
bursts  into  blossom  all  over  and  makes  its  fragrant 
boughs  bend  again,  if  the  bulk  of  them  turn  to  fruit. 


BOOK  L 


47 


grain  will  follow  in  like  proportion,  and  there  will  be  a 
great  day  for  the  threshing  and  a  great  one  for  the  heat ; 
but  if  it  is  a  luxuriance  of  leaves  that  makes  the  shade 
so  abundant,  the  threshing-floor  will  be  tasked  in  vain, 
bruising  stems  laden  only  with  chaff. 

As  for  pulse,  I  have  known  many  men  steep  it  ere 
they  sowed  it,  drenching  it  first  with  niter  and  black 
mother-of-oil,  that  the  treacherous  pods  might  yield  a 
larger  produce,  and  one  that  would  boil  readily  over  a 
small  fire.  Yet  spite  of  all  patience  in  choosing,  spite 
of  all  pains  in  examining,  I  have  seen  the  race  die  out, 
unless  where  men's  power,  year  by  year,  picked  out  the 
largest  one  by  one.  So  is  it  —  all  earthly  things  jre^ 
doomed  to  fall  away  and  slip  back  into  chaos,  like  a 
boatman  who  just  manages  to  make  head  against  the 
stream,  if  the  tension  of  his  arms  happens  to  relax,  and 
the  current  whirls  away  the  boat  headlong  down  the. 
river's  bed. 

Moreover  it  is  as  much  our  interest  to  watch  Arc  turns' 
sign,  and  the  rising  of  the  Kids,  and  the  glittering  Snake, 
as  theirs  who  sailing  homeward  over  the  stormj^  water 
explore  Pontus  and  the  jaws  of  03^ster-breeding  Abj'dus. 
When  the  Balance  has  apportioned  the  hours  equally 
between  daytime  and  sleep,  and  is  giving  half  the  circle 
of  the  sky  to  light  and  half  to  shade ;  come,  my  brave 
men,  task  your  oxen,^ow  barley  broadcast  over  the 
field,  till  the  very  verge  of  the  cold  winter  rains,  when 
no  hand  can  be  put  to  work.  Then,  too,  is  the  time  to 
bury  in  the  earth  your  future  crop  of  flax,  and  the  poppy 
that  the  corn-goddess  loves,  aye,  and  more  than  time 
to  stoop  vigorously  over  the  plough,  while  the  drj-  earth 
will  let  you,  while  the  clouds  hang  unbroken.  Spring 
is  the  sowing  time  for  beans  —  then,  too,  the  lucern 
is  welcomed  by  the  fallow  furrows,  and  millet  claims  its 


48  THE  GEORGICS. 

yearly  care,  when  the  snow-white  Bull  with  his  gilded 
horns  throws  open  the  year,  and  the  Dog  sets  in  retreat 
before  the  star's  advancing  front.  But  if  it  is  for  a 
harvest  of  wheat  and  hardy  spelt  that  you  would  task 
the  soil,  pressing  on  with  ardor  which  only  corn  can 
satisfy,  first  see  Atlas'  children  take  their  morning  de- 
parture, and  the  star  of  Gnossus,  the  blazing  crown, 
recede  from  view,  ere  jovl  charge  the  furrows  with  the 
seed  they  have  begun  to  want,  or  force  the  care  of  a 
whole  year's  losses  on  a  reluctant  soil.  Many  have 
begun  ere  the  setting  of  Maia ;  but  they  have  found 
their  expected  crop  mock  them  with  a  show  of  empty 
corn-ears.  But  if  j^ou  are  for  sowing  vetches  and  cheap 
kidne^^-beans,  and  do  not  think  time  ill-spent  over  the 
lentil  of  Pelusium,  you  cannot  misread  the  prognostic 
given  by  Bootes  at  his  setting  —  begin,  and  carr\^  on 
your  sowing  into  the  heart  of  the  frosty  season. 
n  p  tV  /'  It  is  to  this,  end  that  the  orbit  of  the  golden  sun, 
^  ►.^^P  divided  into  fixed  portions,  is  guided  through  the  world's 

ujL  rfu^*-  twelve  signs.     Five   zones  comprise  the  heaven;   one 

f\^^  of  them,  ever  glowing  under  the  sun's  glance,  ever 

scorched  by  his  flame  ;  on  each  side  of  which,  right  and 
left,  two  others  stretch  away  into  the  far  distance  — 
frozen  homes  of  dull  green  ice  and  black  storms.  Be- 
tween these  and  the  central  zone  yet  other  twain  have 
been  vouchsafed  to  overtoiled  humanity  by  the  clemency 
of  heaven,  and  betwixt  them  has  been  cut  a  path,  along 
which  the  succession  of  the  signs  may  turn  obliquely. 
High  as  the  globe  rises  towards  Scythia  and  the  pin- 
nacles of  Rbipsean  hills,  so  deep  is  its  downward  slope 
to  Libya  and  its  southern  clime.  The  one  pole  ever 
stands  towering  above  our  heads ;  the  other  is  thrust 
down  beneath  the  feet  of  murky  Styx  and  her  ab3'smal 
specters.     Here,  with  his  monstrous  spiral  coils,  shoots 


n' 


Vi.^^' 


BOOK  L  49 

out  the  Snake,  winding  like  a  river  around  and  between 
the  two  Bears  —  the  Bears  who  ever  shrink  from  the 
touch  of  ocean's  waters.  There,  some  saj,  all  is  wrapped 
in  eternal  night,  with  its  silence  that  knows  no  seasons, 
and  its  thick  pall  deepening  the  gloom ;  or,  as  others 
think,  Aurora  visits  them  when  she  leaves  us,  and  brings 
them  back  the  day ;  and  as  we  feel  the  first  breath  of 
her  orient  steeds  panting  up  our  sky,  among  them  Ves- 
per, all  crimson,  is  lighting  its  evening  torch.  Hence  ^  ^• 
it  is  that  we  can  foretell  the  changes  of  the  fitful  hea-  I  qJ>^^^^ 
ven,  the  harvest-tide,  and  the  time  for  sowing,  and  what 
season  is  the  best  for  breaking  with  our  oars  the  sea's 
treacherous  calm ;  what  for  rigging  and  launching  a 
fleet,  or  laying  low  the  pine  among  its  forest  brethren 
when  its  time  is  come.  Aye,  hence  it  is  that  we  watch, 
not  in  vain,  for  the  signs  as  they  rise  and  set,  and  for  . 
the  four  Seasons  whose  diversity  regulates  the  year,  y'''' 

Whenever  a  cold  rainj"  day  keeps  the  farmer  a  pris- 
oner, it  is  but  a  boon,  enabling  him  to  get  read}'  in  time 
many  things  which  he  would  have  had  to  hurry  through 
ere  long  in  fine  weather.  See,  the  ploughman  sits  ham- 
mering out  the  fang  of  his  ploughshare,  which  has  been 
blunted,  or  hollowing  a  trough  out  of  a  tree,  or  he  has 
set  marks  on  his  cattle,  or  numbers  on  his  corn-sacks ; 
others  are  sharpening  stakes  and  two-pronged  forks, 
and  making  bands  of  Amerian  willows  for  tying  up  the 
limber  vine.  Now  is  your  time ;  plait  baskets  of  the 
pliant  bramble- twig,  parch  your  corn  at  the  fire,  or  bruise 
it  with  the  millstone.  Wh}',  even  on  holy-days,  some 
work  is  permitted  b}'  the  laws  of  heaven  and  earth. 
The  strictest  worshiper  has  never  scrupled  to  let  off"  a 
river,  plant  a  hedge  to  protect  his  crop,  set  traps  for 
birds,  fire  the  brambles,  or  wash  his  bleating  flock  for 
health's  sake  in  the  stream.  Often,  too,  has  the  slow 
4 


50  THE   GEORGICS. 

ass  his  sides  laden  with  oil  or  plent}^  of  cheap  apples  by 
his  driver,  who  comes  back  from  town  with  a  dented 
millstone,  or  a  lump  of  black  pitch  for  his  trouble. 

The  moon  herself  has  assigned  her  several  days  to 
man,  as  each  in  its  several  degree  propitious  to  labor. 
Avoid  the  fifth  ;  then  was  born  the  ghastly  God  of  Death 
and  the  Furies  ;  then  it  was  that  the  Earth  produced  her 
monster  brood  —  Coeus  and  lapetus  and  fell  Typhoeus, 
and  the  brethren  who  banded  together  to  tear  down 
heaven's  gates.  Thrice,  indeed,  did  they  essay  to  heap 
Ossa  on  Pelion,  and  upheave  on  to  Ossa  the  forests  of 
Olympus  ;  thrice  the  Father  with  his  thunderbolt  dashed 
their  mountain  pile  to  pieces.  The  seventeenth  is  lucky 
for  planting  out  the  vine,  taking  and  breaking  in  young 
oxen,  and  adding  the  leashes  to  the  warp.  The  ninth 
smiles  on  runaways,  but  frowns  on  thieving. 

Nay,  there  are  many  cases  where  nature  submits  tO 
man  more  readily  in  chilly  night,  or  w^hen  the  sun  is 
young,  and  the  morning  star  sends  dew  on  the  earth. 
Night  is  the  best  for  cutting  the  light  stubble,  night  for 
the  dry  meadows  ;  night  has  always  good  store  of  moist- 
ure to  supple  the  grass.  I  know  a  man  who  will  sit  by 
the  light  of  a  winter  fire  the  whole  night  through,  with  a 
sharp  knife  notching  his  brands,  w^hile  his  wife,  solacing 
her  tedious  task  with  song,  draws  her  shrill  comb  quickly 
over  the  warp,  or  with  the  fire-god's  help  boils  down 
the  sweet  liquid  must,  and  skims  with  a  leaf  the  wave 
of  the  simmering  caldron. 

But  the  ruddy  corn-goddess  is  reaped  in  midsummer 
heat,  and  in  midsummer  heat  the  parched  ears  are 
bruised  on  the  threshing-floor.  Strip  to  plough,  strip 
to  sow  ;  ;winter  is  a  lazy  time  for  the  farmer.  In  cold 
weather  the  husbandman  thinks  rather  of  enjoying  what 
he  has  got,  and  making  merry  with  his  neighbors  in 


BOOK  I.  .  51 

friendly  companies.  Winter  is  the  entertainer,  calling 
out  man's  happier  self,  and  unbinding  his  load  of  care, 
as  it  were  the  end  of  a  long  voj^age,  when  the  heavy- 
laden  vessel  has  at  length  touched  the  harbor's  bar,  and 
the  sailors  in  ecstasy  are  wreathing  her  stern  with  gar- 
lands. Then,  however,  is  the  time  to  strip  acorns  for 
fodder,  and  the  berries  of  the  bay,  the  olive,  and  the 
blood-red  myrtle ;  the  time  to  set  springes  for  cranes 
and  nets  for  deer,  and  chase  the  long-eared  hare  ;  the 
time  to  strike  the  doe  with  a  vigorous  sweep  of  the 
hempen  lash  of  your  Balearic  sling,  in  the  days  when 
the  snow  lies  in  deep  drifts,  when  the  floods  roll  down 
their  ice. 

Why  talk  of  the  fitful  changes  of  Autumn  and  its 
signs,  and  the  dangers  against  which  men  must  watch 
when  the  days  begin  to  shorten,  and  the  summer  heat 
to  soften !  or  when  Spring  pours  down  in  showers, 
when  the  plain  already  bristles  with  waving  ears,  and 
the  corn  on  its  green  stem  is  swelling  with  milky  juice? 
Oft  have  I,  when  the  farmer  was  taking  his  reaper  into 
the  yellow  field,  and  just  beginning  to  top  the  barley's 
frail  stalk,  seen  all  the  armies  of  the  winds  meet  in  the 
shock  of  battle,  tearing  up  by  the  roots  whole  acres  of 
heavy  corn,  and  whirling  it  on  high,  just  as  a  common 
hurricane  would  sweep  down  its  dark  current  light  straw 
and  flying  stubble.  Oft,  too,  comes  rushing  from  the 
sky  a  vast  column  of  waters,  the  clouds,  mustering 
from  the  length  and  breadth  of  heaven,  and  making 
their  dark  storms  into  one  great  murky  tempest ;  down 
crashes  the  whole  dome  of  the  firmament,  washing 
away  before  the  mighty  rain-deluge  all  those  smiling 
crops,  all  for  which  the  ox  toiled  so  hard.  The  dikes 
are  filled,  the  deep  streams  swell  with  a  roar,  and  the 
sea  glows  again  through  every  panting  inlet.     The  great 


62  ,   THE  GEORGICS. 

Father  himself,  intrenched  in  a  night  of  storm-clouds, 
wields  the  huge  thunderbolt  with  flashing  arm :  at  that 
shock  the  giant  earth  trembles,  the  beasts  have  disap- 
peared, and  men's  hearts  all  the  world  over  lie  quailing 
low  in  terror  ;  he  with  his  blazing  javelin  strikes  Athos 
or  Rhodope  or  the  high  Ceraunian  range  :  doubly  loud 
howls  the  south  wind,  doubly  thick  gathers  the  cloud 
of  rain,  and  under  the  blast's  mighty  stroke  forest  and 
shore  by  turns  wail  in  agony. 

With  this  terror  before  you,  look  watchfully  to  the 
heaven,  its  seasons  and  its  signs.  Mark  into  what 
drear}^  regions  Saturn's  cold  star  withdraws  itself;  what 
celestial  orbit  comprises  the  wanderings  of  the  C3'llenian 
fire.  First  of  all,  worship  the  gods,  and  year  by  3'ear 
pay  great  Ceres  her  recurring  honor,  with  a  sacrifice  on 
the  luxuriant  sward,  when  winter  has  at  last  fallen,  and 
spring  begins  to  clear  the  sky.  Those  are  the  days 
when  lambs  are  fat,  and  wine  at  its  mellowest,  when 
sleep  is  pleasant,  and  the  trees  on  the  mountains  thick 
of  shade.  Then  summon  all  your  rustic  force  to  wor- 
ship Ceres  ;  to  pleasure  her,  mix  the  honeycomb  with 
milk,  and  the  wine-god's  mellow  juice,  and  thrice  let 
the  auspicious  victim  be  led  round  the  3'oung  corn, 
with  the  whole  choir  of  your  mates  following  it  in  tri- 
umph, and  shouting  invitations  to  Ceres  to  come  and 
dwell  with  them  ;  nor  let  any  put  the  sickle  into  the  ripe 
corn,  ere  in  Ceres'  honor  he  wreathe  his  brow  with  the 
oaken  chaplet,  join  in  the  uncouth  dance,  and  take  part 
in  the  song ! 

Moreover,  it  is  that  these  dangers  may  be  known  to 
us  by  infallible  tokens  —  the  heat,  I  mean,  and  the  rain, 
and  the  wind  that  brings  the  cold  —  that  the  great 
Father  himself  has  ordained  what  should  be  the  lesson 
taught  by  each  month's  moon,  what  the  signal  for  the 


BOOK  L  53 

south  wind  to  fall  asleep,  what  the  symptom  which, 
repeatedly  observed,  makes  the  husbandman  keep  his 
herds  within  sight  of  their  stalls.  From  the  first,  when 
the  wind  is  getting  up,  either  the  inlets  of  the  sea  begin 
to  work  and  swell,  and  a  dry  crashing  sound  is  heard 
shivering  down  the  high  mountains,  or  a  confused  roar 
echoes  far  along  the  beach,  and  the  whispering  of  the 
forests  comes  fast  and  thick.  By  this  time  the  wave  can 
scarcely  keep  itself  from  falling  on  the  vessel's  keel,  at 
the  moment  when  the  gulls  fly  swiftly  home  from  over 
the  sea,  and  their  noise  travels  with  them  to  the  shore  ; 
at  the  moment,  when  the  cormorants,  whose  element  is 
the  water,  are  sporting  on  the  land,  and  the  heron  for- 
sakes its  home  in  the  marsh,  and  flies  aloft  above  the 
clouds.  Often,  too,  when  wind  is  near,  you  will  see  stars 
shooting  headlong  from  the  sky,  with  long  trails  of  flame 
behind  them,  glimmering  white  through  the  blackness  of 
night ;  often  you  will  see  light  chaff  and  fallen  leaves 
flying  about,  and  films  of  gossamer  in  sportive  conjunc- 
tion floating  on  the  water's  brim.  But  when  from  the 
quarter  of  the  savage  North  come  lightnings,  and  thun- 
der rolls  through  the  halls  of  the  East  and  the  West, 
every  field  is  flooded  from  the  dike's  overflow,  and 
every  sailor  afloat  furls  his  dripping  sails.  Never  man 
was  surprised  by  rain  at  unawares.  He  might  either 
have  seen  the  crows  dropping  from  the  sky  to  the 
depths  of  the  valley,  to  shelter  themselves  from  it  as  it 
rises,  or  the  heifer  turning  its  face  to  heaven  and  sniflf- 
ing  up  the  air  with  its  broad  nostrils,  or  the  swallow 
flying  twitteringly  round  and  round  the  pool,  and  the 
frogs  sitting  in  the  slime,  and  singing  their  old  com- 
plaining note.  Often,  too,  the  ant  is  seen  carrying  its 
eggs  out  of  its  secret  cells  along  that  narrow  well-worn 
path,  and  the  great  rainbow  drinking,  and  the  army  of 


54      •  THE  GEORGICS, 

rooks,  as  it  draws  off  from  its  pasture  in  long  column, 
crying  and  flapping  its  serried  wings.  Again,  the  tribes 
of  sea-birds,  and  such  as  dig  for  treasure  far  and  wide 
in  the  Asian  meads  among  Cayster's  sweet  waters,  may 
be  observed  in  rivalry  with  each  other,  pouring  showers 
of  spray  over  their  backs,  now  presenting  their  heads 
to  the  waves,  now  running  into  the  sea,  rejoicing,  as  it 
were,  in  the  mere  aimless  delight  of  bathing.  Then  the 
raven,  in  her  deep  tones,  like  an  ill  spirit,  calls  down 
the  rain,  and  stalks  in  stately  solitude  along  the  dry 
sea-sand.  Even  at  night,  maidens  at  their  task  can  still 
tell  storm\^  weather,  when  in  the  blazing  lamp  the}^  see 
the  oil  sputter,  and  fungus  clots  form  round  the  wick. 

Not  less  sure  are  the  signs  b}"  which  to  foresee  and 
learn  a  change  from  rain  to  sunshine  and  clear  open 
sk}'.  Then  there  is  no  bluntness  about  the  edge  of  the 
stars,  nor  does  the  moon  seem  to  rise  in  deep  debt  to 
her  brother's  light,  nor  are  thin  fleeces  of  wool  seen  to 
float  over  the  sky.  Nor  do  the  Halcj-^ons,  whom  the 
sea-goddess  loves,  stand  on  the  shore,  spreading  their 
wings  to  the  warm  sun ;  nor  does  it  occur  to  the  un- 
cleanly swine  to  toss  in  their  snouts  loosened  wisps  of 
hay.  But  the  clouds  fly  lower '  and  stretch  themselves 
along  the  plain,  and  as  she  watches  the  sunset  on  her 
tower,  the  owl,  all  for  nothing,  keeps  plying  her  weary 
task  of  song.  Nisus  is  seen  soaring  in  the  clear  sky, 
while  Scylla  suffers  vengeance  for  the  purple  ringlet. 
Wherever  her  flying  wings  cut  through  the  thin  ether, 
see  there  is  Nisus,  her  savage  foe,  with  a  mightj^  sound 
chasing  her  through  the  air.  Where  Nisus  flies  up  into 
the  air  there  is  she,  with  her  flying  wings  cutting  scud- 
dingly  through  the  thin  ether.  Then  the  rooks,  nar- 
rowing their  throats,  utter  a  clear  note,  three  or  four 
times  over,  and  repeatedly  in  their  nests  on  the  tree- 


BOOK  L  55 

top,  moved  by  some  mj'sterious  ecstasy  beyond  their 
wont,  make  a  chatter  among  the  leaves  for  pleasure 
belike,  when  the  rain  is  over,  at  seeing  their  young  and 
their  own  dear  nests  again.  Not,  if  I  may  judge,  that 
Heaven  has  given  them  any  spark  of  wit  like  ours,  or 
Fate  any  deeper  insight  into  things,  but  that  when  the 
weather  and  the  fitful  moisture  of  the  sky  has  changed 
its  course,  and  the  god  of  the  air  with  his  wet  gales 
from  the  south  condenses  particles,  which  erewhile 
were  thin,  and  releases  what  was  dense,  there  is  a 
change  in  the  phases  of  their  life,  and  movements  rise 
in  their  breasts,  unlike  those  the}'  felt  while  the  wind 
was  gathering  the  clouds.  There  lies  the  secret  of  the 
birds'  rural  chorus,  and  the  ecstasy  of  the  cattle,  and 
the  rooks'  triumphant  psean. 

But  if  you  will  watch  the  whirling  sun  and  the  array 
of  the  moon,  the  morrow  will  never  pla}'  you  false,  nor 
will  you  fall  into  the  snare  set  by  a  clear  night.  When 
the  moon  if  first  mustering  her  rallied  fires,  if  her  horns 
are  dull,  with  dark  atmosphere  between,  there  will  be  a 
mighty  storm  brewing  for  farming-men  and  sea.  But 
if  her  face  should  be  suffused  with  a  maiden  blush,  then 
there  will  be  wind :  the  approach  of  wind  ever  flushes 
the  cheek  of  golden  Phoebe.  But  if,  on  her  fourth  rising, 
for  that  is  your  Safest  counselor,  she  shall  sail  through 
the  sk}'  clear,  and  with  unblunted  horn,  then  that  whole 
day,  aye,  and  the  da3-s  which  shall  be  born  from  it  to 
the  month's  end,  shall  be  untroubled  by  rain  or  wind, 
and  seamen  safely  landed,  shall  paj^  their  vows  on  the 
beach  to  Glaucus  andPanopea,  and  Ino's  darling,  Meli- 
certa. 

The  sun,  too,  alike  when  rising  and  when  going  under 
the  wave,  will  give  you  tokens :  no  train  of  tokens  is 
surer  than  the  sun's,  those  which  attend  his  morning 


56  THE   GEORGICS, 

return,  and  those  which  recur  with  the  rising  stars. 
For  him,  when  j^-ou  find  him  flecking  his  infant  dawn 
with  spots,  buried  in  a  cloud,  and  shrinking  from  the 
middle  of  his  disk,  beware  of  showers :  for  there  is 
looming  overhead  a  south  wind,  foe  to  tree,  and  crop, 
and  cattle.  Again,  when  at  daybreak  his  rays  come 
shivered  and  scattered  through  a  thick  mass  of  cloud, 
or  when  Aurora  rises  pale  from  Tithonus'  saffron  bed, 
alas,  the  vine-branch  that  da}^  will  be  a  poor  shelter  to 
your  ripe  grapes,  so  pelting  are  the  spokes  of  hail  that 
bound  and  crackle  on  your  roof.  This  warning,  too,  it 
will  serve  you  more  to  bear  in  mind  when  he  has  finished 
his  course,  and  is  quitting  the  sky,  for  then  we  often 
see  various  hues  wandering  over  his  countenance :  the 
dusky  portends  rain,  the  fier3'-red  east  winds ;  but  if 
dark  spots  and  red  fire  begin  to  blend,  then  you  will  see 
the  whole  firmament  in  one  fierce  turmoil  of  wind  and 
storm-cloud.  Let  no  one  advise  me  to  take  a  journey 
on  the  sea  that  night,  or  pluck  the  cable  fro  A  the  shore. 
But  if  both  when  he  restores  the  day,  and  when  he  hides 
away  again  the  restored  treasure,  his  disk  is  bright, 
your  alarms  of  storm-clouds  will  be  vain,  and  you  will 
see  the  woods  swaying  to  and  fro  in  a  clear  north  wind. 
In  short,  the  secrets  which  evening  carries  on  his 
wing,  the  quarter  whence  a  fair  wind  will  blow  to  drive 
away  the  clouds,  the  hidden  purposes  of  the  rainy  South, 
of  all  these  the  Sun  will  give  you  prognostics.  The 
Sun  —  who  will  dare  to  call  him  untrue?  Nay,  he  it 
is  who  often  betrays  the  stealthy  approach  of  battle 
alarms,  the  heavings  of  treason  and  concealed  rebellion. 
Nay,  he  it  was  that  had  compassion  for  Rome  at  her 
Caesar's  death,  when  he  veiled  his  shining  head  with  a 
gloom  of  iron-gray,  and  a  godless  world  was  afraid  of 
everlasting  night.     Though  that  in  truth  was  a  crisis 


BOOK  I.  57 

when  Earth  and  the  expanse  of  Ocean,  dogs  of  evil 
name  and  birds  of  ill  omen  gave  their  prognostics  too. 
How  often  have  we  seen  the  fire-god's  cells  burst,  and 
JEtna  in  a  stream  blazing  forth  on  the  Cyclops'  domain, 
with  balls  of  flame  and  molten  stones  sweeping  along ! 
The  clashing  of  arms  was  heard  by  Germany  from  sky 
to  sky ;  strange  convulsions  sent  a  trembling  through 
the  Alps.  There  was  a  voice,  too,  heard  by  many 
through  the  still  temple-groves,  deeper  than  human ; 
and  specters  of  unearthly  pallor  were  seen  at  the  dead 
of  night,  and  cattle  —  the  tale  is  too  dire  to  tell  —  spoke 
like  men  :  see !  the  rivers  stay  their  courses,  the  earth 
yawns,  the  ivory  in  the  fanes  sheds  tears  for  sorrow, 
and  the  brass  sweats.  With  the  sweep  of  its  frenzied 
torrent  it  bears  down  whole  forests,  that  king  of  rivers, 
Eridanus,  hurling  before  it  far  as  the  plain  extends, 
stall  and  cattle  alike.  No  respite  was  there  in  those 
fearful  days  to  the  threatening  filaments  that  overcast 
the  entrails  with  sadness,  or  to  the  blood  that  welled 
from  springs  in  the  ground,  or  to  the  howling  of  wolves 
b}^  night,  echoing  through  our  steep-built  towns.  Never 
also  fell  there  more  thunder-bolts  from  a  clear  sky ; 
never  blazed  comets  with  frequence  so  appalling. 
Hence  it  was  that  the  spectacle  of  two  Roman  hosts, 
armed  alike,  meeting  in  the  shock  of  fight,  was  seen 
once  more  by  Philippi,  nor  did  the  Powers  above  think 
it  shame  that  our  best  blood  should  twice  serve  to  fatten 
the  land  of  Emathia  and  Hsemus'  broad  plains.  Yes, 
and  the  time  will  come  when  in  those  borders  the  hus- 
bandman, as  with  his  crooked  plough  he  upheaves  the 
f  mass  of  earth,  will  find,  devoured  b}"  a  scurf  of  rust, 
Roman  javelins,  or  strike  his  heavy  rake  on  empty 
helms,  and  gaze  astounded  on  the  gigantic  bones  that 
start  from  their  broken  sepulchers. 


58  THE    GEORGICS. 

Gods  of  our  fathers,  native  powers,  and  Romulus  and 
Vesta,  our  great  mother,  who  preservest  the  Etruscan 
Tiber  and  Rome's  ]3alaces,  at  least  Jet  this  j'Wng^r 
£hampion  come  to  the  aid  of  a  world  o'erthrown^^with 
none  to  hinder  him.     To  the  full,  long  since,  has  our 
blessed  blood  atoned  for  the  perjuries  of  Laomedon  and 
his  Troy.    Long  since,  Caesar,  has  heaven's  kingly  home 
been  grudging  thee  to  this  our  earth,  complaining  tJiat 
thj^  thoughts  are  all  for  human  triumphs  —  triumphs 
among  a  race  where  right  and  wrong  are  confounded, 
in  a  globe  that  teems  with  war  and  swarms  with  the 
myriad  forms  of  crime ;  where  the  plough  meets  with 
naught  of  its  due  lienor ;  where  the  tiller  is  swept  off 
'     and  the  land  left  to  weeds,  and  the  hook  has  its  curve 
straightened  into  the  swordblade.      In  the  East,  Eu- 
phrates is  stirring  up  war,  in  the  West  Germany ;  nay, 
/  close-neighboring  cities  break  their  mutual  league  and 
f   draw  the  sword  —  and  the  war-god's  unhallovv-ed  fury 
*    rages  the  whole  earth  through ;  even  as  when  in  the 
'   Circus  the  chariots   burst  from  their  floodgates,  they 
dash  into  the  course,  and   pulling  desperately  at  the 
^\    reins,  the  driver  lets  the  horses  drive  him,  and  the  car 
U   is  deaf  to  the  curb. 


BOOK  II.  69 


BOOK  11. 

Thus  far  of  the  tillage  of  the  fields  and  of  the  stars 
of  heaven.  Now  of  thee,  Bacchus,  will  I  sing,  and  of 
the  young  forest  trees  as  united  with  thee,  and  of  the 
progeny  of  the  slowly-growing  olive.  Come  hither, 
father  of  the  wine-press  —  everything  here  is  filled  with 
thy  gifts  —  for  thee  the  land  looks  gay,  as  it  teems  with 
the  viny  harvest,  the  vintage  is  foaming  in  the  brim- 
ming vats.  Come  hither,  father  of  the  wine-press  — 
strip  off  thy  buskins,  bare  th}^  legs,  and  plunge  them 
with  me  into  the  new  must. 

First,  the  law  of  the  production  of  trees  is  various. 
For  some,  under  no  compulsion  from  men,  grow  up  of 
themselves,  of  their  own  accord,  and  spread  widely  over 
the  plains  and  the  winding  river-banks,  like  the  pliant 
osier  and  the  limber  broom,  the  poplar,  and  the  willow 
groves  that  look  so  hoar}^  with  their  gray  leaves.  Some 
again  spring  up  from  the  dropping  of  seed,  like  the  tall 
chestnuts,  and  the  forest-monarch  which  puts  forth  its 
ro3'al  leaves  for  Jove,  the  sesculus,  and  the  oaks,  in 
Greece  deemed  oracular.  With  others  a  dense  forest 
of  suckers  shoots  up  from  their  roots,  as  with  cherr}-- 
trees  and  elms  —  nay,  the  bay  of  Parnassus  rears  its 
infant  head  under  the  mighty  covert  of  its  mother's 
shade.  These  are  the  modes  which  Nature  first  gave 
to  men  unasked- — to  these  the  whole  race  of  forest- 
trees  and  shrubs  and  sacred  groves  owe  their  verdure. 

Other  modes  there  are  which  experience,  working  by 
method,  has  found  out  for  itself  One  has  thought  of 
tearing  off  suckers  from  their  mother's  tender  frame, 


60  772^^   GEORGICS. 

and  planting  them  in  furrows ;  another  has  buried 
stocks  in  the  ground,  truncheons  cleft  in  four,  and 
stakes  sharpened  to  a  point.  Some  forest-trees  yearn 
for  the  arch  of  ^he  depressed  layer,  and  for  slips  which 
partake  of  their  life  and  spring  from  their  soil.  Others 
want  nothing  of  the  root ;  the  gardener  as  he  prunes 
the  tree  confidently  takes  the  topmost  branch  and  re- 
stores it  as  a  trust  to  its  native  earth.  Na}^  the  olive, 
when  cut  down  to  a  stump,  marveloustcrrelate,  strikes 
a  root  out  of  the  dry  wood.  Often,  too,  we  see  the 
branches  of  one  tree  transformed  to  those  of  another 
by  harmless  magic  —  the  pear-tree  is  changed  and  bears 
a  crop  of  engrafted  apples  —  the  stony  cornels  look  red 
on  the  plum-tree. 

Come,  then,  husbandmen,  and  learn  the  culture 
proper  to  each  according  to  its  kind,  and  so  mellow 
your  wild  fruits  by  cultivation,  nor  let  the  ground  lie 
idle.  What  joy,  to  plant  Ismarus  all  over  with  the 
progeny  of  Bacchus,  and  clothe  the  mighty  sides  of 
Taburnus  with  a  garment  of  olives.  Be  thou,  too,  at 
my  side,  and  traverse  with  me  the  task  that  I  have 
essayed,  thou  who  art  my  glory,  to  whom  the  largest 
share  of  my  fame  of  right  belongs,  and  spread  thy  fly- 
ing sails  over  this  broad  ocean.  Not  that  I  aim  at  em- 
bracing all  with  my  song.  I  could  not,  had  I  a  hundred 
tongues,  a  hundred  mouths,  a  voice  of  brass.  Come 
with  me  and  coast  along  the  line  of  the  shore  —  the  land 
is  close  at  hand.  I  will  not  detain  thee  here  with  mythic 
strains,  or  circuitous  detail,  or  lengthy  preambles. 

The  trees  which  of  their  own  accord  rear  themselves 
up  into  the  realms  of  light  grow  up  unfruitful,  but  luxu- 
riant and  vigorous  —  for  there  are  latent  forces  of  na- 
ture in  the  soil.  Yet  unfruitful  as  they  are,  if  grafted 
with  others  or  transplanted  to  pits  where  the  earth  has 


BOOK  11.  61 

been  well  worked,  they  will  be  found  to  have  put  off 
their  savage  temper,  and  under  constant  cultivation  to 
learn  readil}^  whatever  lessons  you  may  choose  to  teach 
them.  So  with  the  barren  sucker  that  springs  from  the 
root,  if  it  be  planted  out  with  clear  ground  to  expatiate 
in —  as  it  now  is,  the  towering  foliage  and  branches  of 
its  mother  overshadow  it,  and  rob  it  of  its  fruit  as  it 
grows  up,  and  wither  up  the  productive  powers  it  exerts. 
Again,  the  tree  which  owes  its  birth  to  chance-dropped 
seed  comes  up  slowly,  reserving  its  shade  for  generations 
yet  unborn  —  apples  degenerate,  having  lost  the  tradi- 
tions of  their  ancient  flavor,  and  the  vine  bears  ignoble 
clusters  for  birds  to  pillage.  The  fact  is,  all  must  have 
labor  spent  on  them  —  all  must  be  drilled  into  trenches 
and  subdued  with  toil  and  pain.  Olives,  however,  an- 
swer best  from  truncheons,  vines  from  layers,  Paphian 
myrtles  from  the  solid  wood.  From  suckers  are  raised 
the  sturdy  hazels,  and  the  huge  ash,  and  the  tree  whose 
sh^de  crowns  the  brows  of  Hercules,  and  the  acorns  of 
our  Chaonian  father  —  raised,  too,  is  the  lofty  palm, 
and  the  fir  which  will  one  da}^  behold  the  disasters  of 
the  deep.  But  the  prickly  arbutus  is  grafted  with  the 
fruit  of  the  nut,  and  plane-trees,  though  barren,  have 
borne  heavy  apples  in  their  day  —  the  chestnut's  blos- 
som has  whitened  the  beech,  the  pear's  the  mountain 
ash,  and  swine  have  crunched  acorns  that  they  found 
under  the  elm.  Nor  is  the  method  of  grafting  and  of 
inoculation  one  and  the  same.  Where  the  buds  sprout 
forth  from  the  middle  of  the  bark  and  burst  the  thin 
coats,  there  is  a  small  orifice  in  the  knot  thus  caused  ; 
into  it  they  introduce  a  bud  from  a  strange  tree,  and 
teach  it  to  grow  into  the  bark  that  gives  it  the  sap  of 
life.  Or  again  incision  is  made  in  the  stem  where  there 
are  no  knots,  and  a  deep  passage  is  cloven  by  wedges 


62  .  THE  GEORGTCS. 

into  solid  wood.     Then  shoots  that  will  bear  are  let  in 

—  a  little  while,  and  the  tree  has  started  up  toward 
the  sky  with  a  weight  of  teeming  branches,  marveling 
at  its  strange  foliage,  and  a  fruitage  not  its  own. 

Further,  there  is  not  one  kind  onlj'  of  stalwart  elms, 
or  of  the  wallow  and  the  lotus,  or  the  cj^presses  of  Ida, 
nor  are  fat  olives  all  produced  after  one  tj^pe  —  orchads 
and  radii  —  and  pausians  with  their  bitter  fruit;  nor 
yet  the  apple-forests  of  Alcinous  ;  nor  is  the  scion  the 
same  which  produces  S3Tian  and  Crustumian  pears  and 
big  hand-fillers.  The  vintage  that  hangs  from  our  trees 
is  not  the  same  which  Lesbos  gathers  from  the  tendrils 
of  Meth3^mna.  There  are  Thasian  vines,  there  are 
Mareotids,  which  are  white  ;  these  suited  for  rich  soils, 
those  for  the  lighter  sort ;  and  the  Psithian,  which  does 
better  for  raisin- wine ;  and  the  Lageos,  whose  thin 
light  juice  will  one  da}'  trouble  the  feet  and  tie  up  the 
tongue  ;  and  purples,  and  early -ripes  —  thou,  too,  grape 
of  Khsetia,  how  shall  I  sing  thy  praises?  Yet  measure 
not  thyself,  therefore,  against  cellars  of  Falernum. 
Then  there  are  the  Aminaean  vines  —  best  of  wines  to 
keep  —  to  which  the  Tmolian  veils  his  crest,  and  the 
roj^al  Phanseus  himself,  and  the  lesser  Argitis,  with 
which  none  will  be  found  to  vie,  either  for  the  streams 
of  juice  that  it  3'ields,  or  for  the  length  of  years  that  it 
lasts.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  pass  over  thee,  Rhodian  — 
welcome  to  the  gods  and  to  the  banquet's  second  course 

—  or  Bumastus,  with  thy  big  swelling  clusters.  But 
there  is  no  number  to  tell  how  man}'  kinds  there  are,  or 
what  their  names ;  indeed,  it  skills  not  to  measure 
them  by  number.  The  man  who  would  have  such 
knowledge  would  wish  also  to  know  how  many  sand- 
grains  are  lashed  by  the  zephyr  on  the  Libyan  waste, 
or  when  the  east  wind  falls  with  violence  on  the  ship- 


BOOK  IL  63 

ping,  to  tell  how  many  waves  the  Ionian  sea  sends 
rolling  to  the  shore. 

Nor,  indeed,  is  every  soil  able  to  produce  everything. 
Willows  grow, by  rivers,  alders  in  rank  boggy  ground, 
barren  ashes  in  a  stony  mountainous  country.  The 
most  luxuriant  myrtle  groves  are  on  the  shore.  Lastly, 
Bacchus  is  partial  to  broad  sunny  hills,  the  yew-tree 
to  north  winds  and  cold.  Look  also  at  the  extremities 
of  the  earth  as  subdued  by  tillage,  the  Eastern  homes 
of  the  Arabs  and  the  tattooed  Gelonians.  There  you 
will  find  trees  with  their  countries  portioned  out  to  them. 
None  but  India  produces  black  ebony ;  the  spray  of 
frankincense  belongs  to  none  but  the  Sabseans.  Why 
tell  thee  of  the  balsams,  the  sweat  of  the  fragrant  wood, 
or  of  the  berries  of  the  evergreen  acanthus?  Why 
speak  of  the  woods  of  the  Ethiopians,  with  their  hoary 
locks  of  soft  wool,  or  how  the  Seres  comb  silky  fleeces 
from  the  lambs?  Or  the  forests  which  India  bears, 
hard  by  the  ocean,  the  utmost  corner  of  the  world  — 
forests  where  no  shot  of  an  arrow  can  reach  the  sky  that 
tops  the  trees ;  and  the  natives  are  not  slow,  either, 
when  they  take  up  the  quiver?  Media  produces  the 
bitter  juice  and  lingering  flavor  of  the  benignant  citron  ; 
no  more  present  help  than  that,  if  ever  cruel  stepdames 
have  drugged  the  draught,  mingling  herbs  and  charms 
not  less  baleful,  to  come  and  expel  the  deadly  poison 
from  the  frame.  The  tree  itself  is  large,  and  ver}'  like 
a  bay  to  look  at ;  nay,  if  the  scent  it  flings  about  were 
not  different,  a  bay  it  had  been.  No  wound  can  make 
it  shed  its  leaves,  and  the  blossom,  too,  holds  fast  as 
few.  The  Medes  use  it  for  purifying  noisome  breath, 
and  relieving  the  asthma  of  old  age. 

But  neither  Median  forests,  wealthiest  of  climes,  nor 
lovely  Ganges,  nor  Ilermus,  whose  mud  is  gold,  may 


64  THE  GEORGICS. 

vie  with  the  glories  of  Italy.  No,  nor  Bactria,  nor  Ind, 
nor  Panchaia,  with  all  the  riches  of  its  incense-bearing 
sands.  Here  is  a  land  where  no  bulls,  breathing  fire  from 
their  nostrils,  have  ploughed  the  soil ;  where  no  enor- 
mous dragons'  teeth  were  ever  sown  ;  where  no  human 
harvest  started  up,  bristling  with  helms  and  crowded 
lances ;  but  teeming  corn  and  the  vine-god's  Massic 
juice  have  made  it  their  own ;  its  tenants  are  olives  and 
luxuriant  herds  of  cattle.  Hence  comes  the  war-horse, 
that  prances  proudly  into  the  battle-field.  Hence, 
Clitumnus,  those  white  flocks,  and  the  bull,  that  majes- 
tic victor,  which  oft  ere  now,  bathed  in  th}'  sacred  flood, 
have  ushered  a  Roman  triumph  to  the  temples  of  the 
gods.  Here  is  ceaseless  spring,  and  summer  in  months 
where  summer  is  strange.  Twice  the  cattle  give  in- 
crease, twice  the  tree  fields  its  service  of  fruit.  But 
far  away  are  fierce  tigers  and  the  savage  seed  of  lions ; 
nor  does  aconite  grow  to  beguile  the  wretched  herb- 
gatherer  ;  nor  does  the  serpent  roll  his  huge  circle  swiftly 
along  the  ground,  or  gather  his  scales  into  a  coil  with 
so  vast  a  sweep.  Think,  too,  of  all  those  stately  cities 
and  trophies  of  human  toil,  all  those  towns  piled  by  man's 
hand  on  beetling  rocks,  with  rivers  flowing  beneath  their 
time-honored  walls.  Or  shall  I  speak  of  the  two  seas 
that  wash  it  above  and  below  ?  or  of  thpse  mighty  lakes 
—  of  thee,  Larius,  the  greatest,  and  thee,  Benacus, 
heaving  with  the  swell  and  the  roar  of  ocean  ?  or  tell 
of  the  harbors  and  the  barrier  thrown  across  the  Lucrine, 
and  the  rage  and  loud  thunder  of  the  bafliied  waters, 
where  the  sound  of  the  sea  beaten  back  echoes  far  over 
the  Julian  wave,  and  the  Tyrrhenian  billows  come  foam- 
ing up  into  the  creeks  of  Avernus?  It  is  a  land,  too, 
which  has  disclosed  currents  of  silver  and  of  copper  ore 
mantling  in  its  veins,  and  has  streamed  profusely  with 


BOOK  IL  65 

gold  —  a  land  that  has  produced  tribes  of  manljr  tem- 
per—  the  Marsian,  the  Sabine  stock,  the  Ligurian, 
inured  to  hardship,  and  the  Volscian  spearmen ;  the 
families  of  the  Decii  and  the  great  CamilH,  the  Scipios 
—  those  iron  warriors  —  and  thee,  Caesar,  greatest  of 
all,  who  now,  crowned  with  conquest  in  Asia's  utmost 
bounds,  art  driving  back  the  unwarlike  Indian  from  the 
towers  of  Rome.  Hail  to  thee,  land  of  Saturn,  mighty 
mother  of  noble  fruits  and  noble  men !  For  thee  I 
essa}^  the  theme  of  the  glory  and  the  skill  of  olden  days. 
For  thee  I  adventure  to  break  the  seal  of  those  hallowed 
springs,  and  sing  the  song  of  Ascra  through  the  towns 
of  Rome. 

Now  for  the  tempers  of  fields  —  what  are  the  powers 
of  each,  what  the  distinguishing  color,  and  what  the 
natural  aptitude  for  gendering  things.  First,  then,  those 
churlish  soils  and  niggard I3'  hills,  where  hungrj^  marl  and 
gravel  form  a  bed  for  brambles,  rejoice  in  the  forest- 
growth  of  Minerva's  long-lived  olive.  You  may  tell 
it  by  the  many  wild  olives  that  spring  up  in  the  same 
line  of  country,  and  the  ground  strewn  all  over  with 
their  woodland  berries.  But  a  rich  soil,  which  luxuri- 
ates in  the  moisture  of  fresh  springs,  a  plain  with  abun- 
dant herbage  and  a  teeming  bosom,  such  as  we  often  see 
at  the  bottom  of  a  mountain  hollow  —  for  the  streams 
pour  down  into  it  from  the  tops  of  the  rocks,  and  carry 
with  them  fertilizing  slime ;  a  plain  which  rises  to  the 
south,  and  produces  fern,  that  enemy  of  the  crooked 
ploughshare ;  such  a  soil  will  one  day  bear  \'0U  good 
store  of  vines  of  excellent  health,  and  yielding  rivers 
of  Bacchic  juice :  it  will  teem  with  grapes,  and  with 
liquor,  such  as  we  pour  in  libations  from  golden  cups, 
when  the  plump  Etruscan  at  the  altar  blows  through  the 
pipe,  and  we  offer  entrails  smoking  hot  in  chargers  that 
5 


66  THE  GEORGICS, 

bend  under  the  weight.  But  if  your  care  be  rather  to 
rear  cattle,  bullocks,  lambs,  or  goats  that  kill  young 
shoots,  go  to  the  distant  lawns  of  luxuriant  Tarentum, 
or  plains  such  as  that  which  poor  Mantua  lost,  support- 
ing silver  swans  with  its  weedy  stream  :  there  will  be  no 
lack  of  clear  springs  or  grass  for  your  cattle.  Nay,  all 
that  your  herds  can  devour  on  a  summer's  day,  will  be 
replaced  by  the  cold  fresh  dew  of  one  short  night. 

For  corn,  the  best  land  in  the  main  is  that  which  is 
black,  and  shows  itself  rich  when  the  ploughshare  is 
driven  into  it,  and  whose  soil  is  crumbling,  that  being 
what  we  seek  to  reproduce  by  ploughing ;  there  is  no 
sort  of  ground  from  which  jou  will  see  more  wains 
dragged  home  by  sturd}-  toiling  bullocks  ;  or  again,  land 
from  which  timber  has  been  carted  away  by  the  pro- 
voked husbandman,  leveling  wood  which  has  been  doing 
no  good  these  many  years,  and  upsetting  the  leafy  homes 
of  the  birds,  roots  and  all  —  the  tenants,  ejected  from 
their  nests,  have  gone  up  into  the  air,  while  the  rude 
field  has  been  brightened  up  by  dint  of  the  ploughshare. 
As  for  the  hungry  gravel  of  the  Hill  countr}^,  it  can 
barely  furnish  shrubs  like  cassia  and  rosemary  for  bees  ; 
and  the  rugged  tufa  and  the  marl  all  eaten  awa}^  by  black 
snakes,  tell  you  plainly  that  no  other  ground  is  so  good 
at  suppljing  serpents  with  food  that  they  like,  and  holes 
where  they  may  wind  and  lurk.  But  the  land  which 
exhales  thin  vapors  and  light  steam,  which  drinks  in 
moisture,  and  gives  it  off  again  at  jDleasure,  which  keeps 
itself  constantly  clothed  with  the  verdure  of  its  own 
grass,  and  breeds  no  scurfy  salt  rust  to  corrode  the 
plough  —  here  is  a  land  which  will  yield  j^ou  luxuriant 
vines  to  twine  round  your  elms  —  a  land  which  produces 
olives  abundantly  —  a  land  which  the  experience  of  cul- 
tivation will  show  to  be  at  once  well  natured  for  cattle 


BOOK  11.  67 

and  submissive  to  the  crooked  share.  Such  is  the  land 
that  is  fenced  by  wealthy  Capua  and  the  coast  neigh- 
boring the  Vesuvian  ridge,  and  Clanius,  the  oppressor 
of  desolate  Acerrae. 

Now  I  will  tell  3^ou  how  you  may  distinguish  each. 
If  3'ou  want  to  know  whether  a  soil  be  loose  or  exceed- 
ingly stiff,  seeing  that  the  one  is  partial  to  corn,  the 
other  to  vines ;  the  stiffer  to  the  corn  goddess,  the 
loosest  to  the  wine-god,  fix  on  a  spot  of  ground,  and 
cause  a  pit  to  be  sunk  in  the  solid  earth,  then  put  all 
the  mold  back  again,  and  stamp  the  surface  level.  If 
there  is  too  little,  the  soil  will  be  loose  and  more  suited 
for  pasture  and  fruitful  vines ;  but  if  it  refuses  to  go 
into  its  place,  so  that  when  the  hole  is  full  the  earth 
still  dominates,  the  clay  is  thick  —  prepare  3'ourself  for 
resistance  in  the  clods  and  stiffness  in  the  ridges,  and 
let  the  oxen  with  which  you  break  up  the  ground  be 
strong. 

As  for  a  salt  or  bitter  soil,  as  it  is  called,  which  is 
unkindly  to  produce,  never  softening  under  ploughing 
—  where  the  grape  is  not  true  to  its  race,  or  the  apple 
to  its  name,  it  will  test  itself  thus  :  pull  down  from  your 
smoke-dried  roof  the  thick  plaited  baskets  and  wine- 
strainers,  and  into  them  stamp  to  the  full  that  malig- 
nant land,  along  with  fresh  water  from  the  spring  —  all 
the  water,  you  will  see,  will  force  itself  out,  and  big 
drops  will  trickle  through  the  plaits  —  the  taste  will  tell 
the  tale  plainly,  warping  the  mouths  of  the  triers  into  a 
frown  by  the  sense  of  bitterness. 

Again,  the  fatness  of  a  soil,  to  be  brief,  is  ascertained 
in  this  way  :  toss  it  about  in  the  hand,  it  never  crumbles, 
but  in  the  act  of  holding  clings  to  the  fingers  like  pitch. 
A  moist  soil  grows  large  weeds,  and  its  powers  of  pro- 
duction are  more  luxuriant  than  need  be.     Ah !  may  I 


68  THE    GEORGICS, 

never  be  troubled  b}'  its  over-fertilitj^,  or  the  excess  of 
strength  that  it  puts  forth  for  a  first  crop  !  As  for  heavy 
or  Hght  soils,  their  weight  betrays  them  without  a  word 
said.  Your  e3'e  will  tell  3'ou  at  once  which  is  black, 
and,  in  short,  which  is  of  what  color.  But  the  detec- 
tion of  that  vile  cold  is  difficult ;  all  that  can  be  said  is, 
that  pines,  and  noxious  3'ews,  and  black  ivy,  occasion- 
ally give  signs  of  it. 

All  this  duly  observed,  remember  to  get  the  ground 
TV-ell  baked,  and  the  mountains  ploughed  up  with  trenches 
through  their  length  and  breadth,  and  the  clods  all 
turned  up  and  exposed  to  the  north  winds  before  j^ou, 
plant  the  scion  of  the  luxuriant  vine.  Fields  where 
the  soil  is  crumbling  are  the  best ;  for  that  we  must 
thank  winds  and  sharp  frosts,  and  the  main  force  of  the 
spade  laborer,  disturbing  and  loosening  the  ground.  But 
men,  whose  watchfulness  nothing  escapes,  look  out  first 
for  two  similar  soils,  where  the  3'oung  shoots  are  to  be 
nursed  for  the  trees,  and  where  they  are  afterwards  to 
be  taken  and  transplanted,  that  the  sudden  change  ma^^ 
not  make  the  plants  feel  strangely  to  their  mother. 
Nay,  the}'^  mark  the  quarter  of  the  heavens  on  the  bark, 
that  the}'  may  be  able  to  reproduce  the  way  in  which 
each  used  to  stand,  the  part  on  which  it  bore  the  brunt 
of  the  southern  heat,  the  side  which  it  presented  to  the 
north  pole.  So  powerful  are  habits  formed  in  tender 
years. 

Let  your  first  question  be,  whether  the  -vine  would  be 
better  planted  on  a  hill  or  on  the  plain.  If  you  decide 
on  laying  out  tracts  of  rich  level  ground,  plant  thick ; 
thick  setting  will  not  dull  the  powers  of  the  wine-god. 
But  if  you  fix  on  land  rising  into  hillocks  and  broad 
slopes,  give  free  scope  to  your  rows  — all  the  same  let 
the  line  of  each  avenue  that  3'ou  draw  tally  with  the 


BOOK  11.  69 

rest  when  the  trees  are  planted  —  as  you  may  often  see 
when  a  legion  has  deploj^ed  at  full  length  into  cohorts 
for  a  great  battle,  and  the  column  has  taken  its  stand 
in  the  open  plain,  and  the  lines  are  drawn  out  and  all 
the  earth  is  gleaming  like  a  sea  with  the  wavy  sheen  of 
brass,  while  the  grim  melee  of  the  fight  has  not  yet 
begun,  but  the  war-god  hovers  dubiously  between  the 
armies.  Let  all  be  laid  out  in  regular  symmetrical 
avenues,  not  only  that  the  view  may  feed  the  idle 
fancy,  but  because  there  is  no  other  way  of  getting  the 
earth  to  give  an  equal  share  of  support  to  all,  or  en- 
abling the  branches  to  spread  freely  into  open  air. 

Perhaps  too  you  may  like  to  know  about  the  depth 
of  your  pits.  I  would  not  mind  trusting  the  vine  to  a 
shallow  trench,  but  its  supporter  strikes  down  deeper 
into  the  heart  of  the  earth,  especially  the  sesculus,  which 
does  not  push  its  head  further  towards  the  altitudes  of 
heaven  than  it  pushes  its  roots  towards  the  dark  world 
beneath.  Hence  it  is  that  winter  storm  and  blast  and 
rain  cannot  tear  it  from  its  seat :  it  abides  unmoved : 
manj^  are  the  posterities,  man}'  the  generations  of  men 
that  it  rolls  along  and  lives  down  victoriouslj' ;  while 
stretching  out  its  sinew}^  branching  arms  on  all  sides,  it 
supports  with  its  central  bulk  the  vast  weight  of  their 
shade. 

Do  not  let  your  vineyards  slant  towards  the  setting 
sun,  nor  plant  a  hazel  among  your  vines,  nor  take  the 
topmost  spray  of  the  vine,  or  pluck  the  suckers  that  are 
to  support  it  from  the  top  of  the  tree  —  the  affection  for 
the  soil  is  so  great  —  nor  injure  your  buds  bj^  using 
blunt  steel,  nor  plant  truncheons  of  wild  olive  in  3'our 
vineyard  ;  for  careless  husbandmen  will  often  drop  a 
spark,  which  after  being  first  concealed  and  sheltered 
under  the  unctuous  rind,  catching  the  tree,  mounts  in  a 


70  THE   GEORGICS, 

moment  into  the  foliage,  and  sends  a  loud  sound  up  into 
the  air,  then  runs  along  and  dominates  victoriously 
among  the  branches  and  the  summits  that  tower  so 
high,  and  wraps  the  whole  plantation  in  flame,  and 
throws  up  black  clouds  of  thick  pitchy  vapor  to  the 
sk}',  especially  if  a  gale  happens  to  come  sweeping 
down  over  the  woods  and  a  driving  wind  gathers  and 
spreads  the  blaze.  In  an  event  like  this,  the  power  of  ^ 
the  root  is  gone ;  they  cannot  be  restored  by  amputa- 
tion, or  shoot  up  green  as  before  from  the  depth  of  the 
soil :  the  wild  olive  with  its  bitter  leaves  is  left  master 
of  the  field. 

Let  no  adviser  have  such  credit  for  foresight  as  to 
persuade  3'ou  to  meddle  with  the  earth  while  it  is  lying 
stiff  under  the  breath  of  the  northern  blasts,  for  then 
winter  seals  up  the  ground  with  cold  and  does  not 
suffer  the  plant  when  set  to  strike  its  frozen  root  into 
the  soil.  The  best  planting  season  for  vines  is  the 
bloom  of  spring,  at  the  return  of  that  white  bird,  which 
the  long  vipers  hate  so,  or  in  the  first  cold  days  of 
autumn,  when  the  sun's  fierj^  coursers  have  not  yet 
reached  winter,  though  summer  is  well  over.  Spring 
it  is,  spring  that  does  good  to  woodland  foliage  and 
forestry ;  in  spring  the  soil  swells  and  demands  im- 
pregnation. It  is  then  that  ^ther,  the  Almighty  Fa- 
ther of  Nature,  penetrates  the  womb  of  earth  with  his 
fruitful  showers  and  blending  his  might}^  frame  with 
hers  gives  life  to  all  the  embrj^os  within.  It  is  then 
that  the  pathless  brakes  are  vocal  with  the  songs  of 
birds,  and  the  cattle  pair  in  their  season.  The  parent 
soil  brings  forth,  and  the  warm  western  breezes  unseal 
the  womb  of  the  fields.  A  gentle  moisture  rises  over 
all,  and  as  the  new  suns  dawn,  the  herbage  ventures  to 
encounter  them  with  safety,  and  the  young  vine-branch 


BOOK  11,  71 

has  no  fear  that  the  south  wind  will  get  up  or  that  the 
mighty  north  will  shed  a  burst  of  rain  from  the  sky, 
but  puts  out  its  buds  and  unfolds  all  its  leaves.  \  I  do 
not  believe  that  the  days  were  brighter  or  their  course 
more  blissful  when  the  young  world  first  came  into 
being :  it  was  spring  then  —  it  was  spring-tide  that  the 
great  globe  was  keeping,  and  the  east  winds  of  winter 
were  forbearing  to  blow,  when  the  earliest  cattle  opened 
their  eyes  on  the  light,  and  an  iron  race  of  men  rose 
from  the  hard  soil  of  earth,  and  beasts  were  turned 
into  the  woods,  and  stars  into  the  sky.  Indeed  things 
so  delicate  would  not  be  able  to  endure  such  hardships, 
unless  there  were  a  great  breathing  time  like  this  com- 
ing between  cold  and  heat,  and  a  clement  sky  ready  to 
receive  the  earth. 

For  the  rest,  whatever  cuttings  you  set  in  3- our  land, 
be  sure  to  sprinkle  them  with  rich  manure  and  cover 
them  with  plenty  of  earth ;  or  bury  with  them  a  porous 
stone  or  rough  shells,  for  the  water  will  penetrate  be- 
tween the  crevices,  and  the  searching  breath  of  air  will 
steal  in,  and  the  sets  will  pluck  up  heart.  Men  too 
have  been  known  ere  now  to  place  a  stone  over  them  or 
a  great  heav}'  potsherd,  as  a  protection  against  showers 
of  rain,  or  when  the  sultry  dog-star  splits  the  thirsty 
jaws  of  the  soil. 

When  your  sets  are  planted,  you  have  to  loosen  the 
ground  repeatedly  about  the  roots,  and  make  play  with 
your  strong  spades,  or  work  the  earth  by  dint  of  the 
ploughshare,  and  even  turn  your  restive  team  between 
the  rows  of  your  vineyard  ;  further,  you  must  get  ready 
smooth  canes  and  spearlike  wands  of  peeled  rods  and 
stakes  of  the  ash,  and  stout  forks,  by  whose  support 
the  vines  may  be  trained  to  climb  and  defy  the  winds, 
and  run  from  story  to  story  along  the  elm-tops. 


72  THE  GEORGICS, 

In  the  time  of  their  young  growth  and  their  first 
leaves  you  should  spare  their  infancy,  and  even  when 
the  vine-branch  is  pushing  its  way  exultingl^^  into  the 
sky,  launched  into  the  void  in  full  career,  the  tree 
should  not  as  yet  be  operated  on  b}'  the  pruning-hook, 
but  the  leaves  should  be  gathered  by  the  fingers  and 
picked  off  here  and  there.  Then  when  they  have  shot 
up  their  stems  strong  and  closely  wound  round  the 
elms,  it  is  time  to  lop  the  leaves  and  clip  the  branches  ; 
before  that  they  shrink  from  the  knife.  Then  is  the 
time  to  set  up  a  strong  government  and  keep  down  the 
luxuriance  of  the  boughs. 

You  must  make  close  hedges  too  and  keep  out  cattle 
of  every  sort,  especially  while  the  branches  are  3^oung 
and  unaccustomed  to  rough  living.  Besides  the  danger 
from  cruel  winters  and  oppressive  suns,  wild  buffaloes 
and  restless  goats  are  constantly  disporting  themselves 
with  it.  Sheep  and  heifers  feed  on  it  greedily.  Indeed 
no  cold  that  hoarfrost  ever  congealed,  no  summer  that 
ever  smote  heavily  on  the  parching  rocks  has  been  so 
fatal  to  it  as  the  flocks  and  the  venom  of  their  sharp 
tooth,  and  the  wound  impressed  on  the  stem  that  they 
have  gnawed  to  the  quick.  It  is  in  fact  for  this  crime 
that  the  goat  appears  at  all  altars  as  a  victim  to  Bac- 
chus, when  the  favorite  old  plays  are  brought  on  the 
stage.  So  the  sons  of  Theseus  set  up  prizes  for  wit  in 
their  village  and  cross-road  gatherings,  and  in  drunken 
jollity  jumped  over  greased  bags  of  goatskin  in  the 
velvet  meads.  The  Ausonian  rustics,  too,  who  owe 
their  descent  to  Tro}^  have  their  sport  in  artless  verses 
and  unbridled  laughter,  and  put  on  frightful  masks  of 
hollowed  bark  and  call  on  thee,  Bacchus,  in  songs  of 
joy,  and  in  thy  honor  hang  up  images  with  pleasant 
faces  to  swing  from  the  tall  pine.     This  makes  every 


BOOK  II.  73 

vineyard  luxuriate  in  plenteous  increase.  There  is 
fullness  in  hollow  valley  and  deep  hill-gorge,  and  in 
every  place  to  which  the  god  has  turned  his  comely 
head.  Duly  then  will  we  husbandmen  give  Bacchus  the 
celebration  he  claims  in  the  songs  our  fathers  sung,  with 
offerings  of  loaded  platters  and  steaming  cakes  ;  led  by 
the  horn  the  consecrated  goat  shall  be  set  before  the 
altar,  and  the  dainty  entrails  shall  be  roasted  on  spits 
of  hazel. 

Again,  too,  there  is  that  other  heavy  toil  of  dressing 
vines,  a  drain  which  is  never  satisfied  ;  for  the  whole 
soil  has  to  be  broken  up  every  year  thrice  and  again, 
and  the  clods  to  be  crushed  incessantl}^  with  the  hoe's 
back ;  the  whole  plantation  has  to  be  lightened  of  its 
foliage.  Back  upon  the  husbandman  comes  his  labor 
in  a  round,  as  the  year  retraces  its  own  footsteps  and 
rolls  round  upon  itself.  And  now  already"  when  the^ 
vineyard  has  shed  its  lingering  leaves,  and  the  cold 
north  wind  has  stripped  the  woods  of  their  beauty, 
even  thus  early  a  keen  farmer  stretches  his  fore- 
thought to  meet  the  coming  year,  and  with  Saturn's 
hooked  fang  in  hand  pursues  the  forlorn  vine,  clipping 
it  as  it  grows,  and  prunes  it  to  the  shape  he  will.  Be 
the  first  to  dig  the  ground,  the  first  to  cast  away  and 
burn  the  lopped  boughs,  the  first  to  carryback  the  poles 
under  cover,  the  last  to  put  in  the  sickle.  Twice  a  year 
the  leaves  encroach  on  the  vines  ;  twice  a  year  the  crop 
is  overgrown  with  weeds  and  clustering  briers  ;  the  one 
task  is  as  hard  as  the  other.  Praise  a  large  estate  as 
you  will,  but  farm  a  small  one.  Then,  too,  there  are 
the  rough  twigs  of  butchers'  broom  to  be  cut  up  and 
down  the  woods,  and  the  water-reed  on  the  river-side, 
and  the  dressing  of  the  untended  willow  to  keep  your 
hand  at  work.     And  now  suppose  that  the  vines  are 


74  THE  GEORGICS. 

tied  up,  the  plantations  have  done  with  the  pruning- 
hook,  and  the  last  dresser  is  singing  the  song  of  '  all 
rows  finished,'  still  there  is  the  earth  to  be  disturbed 
and  the  dust  raised,  and  the  grape  when  fully  ripe  has 
to  meet  the  terrors  of  Jupiter. 

On  the  other  hand  olives  need  no  dressing  at  all ; 
they  claim  nothing  from  curving  hook  or  tearing  rake, 
when  once  they  have  struck  root  into  the  soil  and 
weathered  the  air.  The  earth  itself,  when  the  crooked 
fang  unlocks  it,  gives  the  young  plants  moisture,  and 
yields  teeming  produce  by  the  ploughshare's  aid.  Do 
this,  and  rear  the  olive  to  the  fatness  which  makes  it 
Peace's  darling. 

Apples  again,  so  soon  as  they  have  felt  their  trunks 
firm  under  them  and  come  into  their  strength,  climb 
their  way  rapidh-  to  the  sky  by  their  own  power,  and 
need  no  help  from  us. 

Meanwhile  the  whole  forest  is  teeming  with  3'oung 
life  no  less,  and  the  birds'  wild  haunts  are  ablush  with 
blood-red  berries.  The  lucern  is  eaten  for  fodder,  the 
tall  wood  supplies  pine  torches,  and  night-fires  are  fed 
and  give  light  to  the  house.  And  can  men  stand  in 
doubt  about  planting  and  expending  pains?  Why  go 
through  the  greater  trees  ?  take  but  willows  and  lowl}^ 
brooms,  even  they  aflTord  leaves  for  cattle  and  shelter 
for  shepherds,  hedges  for  crops  and  food  for  honey. 
Ay,  and  what  joy  to  gaze  on  Cj'torus  all  waving  with 
box,  and  those  groves  of  Nar3xian  pitch  !  what  joy  to 
look  on  fields  that  owe  no  debt  to  the  rake,  none  to 
aught  of  man's  culture !  Nay,  those  barren  forests  on 
the  top  of  Caucasus,  which  the  gusty  eastern  blasts  are 
forever  wasting  and  whirling,  yield  each  tree  a  produce 
of  its  own,  yield  good  timber  for  shipping  in  their 
pines,  for  houses  in  their  cedars  and  cypresses.    Hence 


BOOK  II.  75 

the  farmer  turns  spokes  for  wheels,  drum- boards  for 
wagons,  and  curved  keels  for  vessels.  Twigs  are 
freely  yielded  b}^  the  willow,  leaves  by  the  elm,  strong 
spear-shafts  by  the  myrtle  and  the  cornel,  the  warrior's 
friend ;  yews  are  bent  into  Itursean  bows.  Nor  does 
the  smooth  linden  or  the  lathe-polished  box  refuse  to 
take  shape  and  be  hollowed  by  the  sharp  steel.  The 
light  alder,  too,  swims  the  torrent  wave,  sped  down  the 
Po ;  bees  too  hive  their  swarms  in  the  hollow  cork-bark 
and  the  trough  of  the  decaying  ilex.  What  of  equal 
account  has  come  from  Bacchus'  gifts  to  manf  Bac- 
chus !  he  has  even  given  occasion  to  crime  ;  it  was  he 
that  tamed  with  the  death-stroke  the  Centaurs  he  had 
first  maddened,  their  Rhoetus  and  their  Pholus,  and 
their  Hylaeus,  menacing  the  Lapithse  with  his  mighty 
bowl. 

'  O  happy,  beyond  human  happiness,  had  they  but  a 
sense  of  their  blessings,  the  husbandmen,  for  whom  of 
herself,  far  away  from  the  shock  of  arms,  Earth,  that 
gives  all  their  due,  pours  out  from  her  soil  plenteous 
sustenance.  What  if  they  have  not  a  lofty  palace 
with  proud  gates  disgorging  from  every  room  a  vast 
tide  of  morning  visitors  ;  if  they  have  not  doors  in- 
laid with  sumptuous  tortoise-shell  to  gloat  on,  and 
tapestry  with  fancy  work  of  gold,  and  bronzes  of 
Ephyra  ;  if  their  white  wool  is  not  stained  by  Ass3'riau 
drugs,  or  their  clear  oil's  service  spoiled  by  the  bark  of 
cassia  still  they  have  repose  without  care  and  a  life 
where  fraud  and  pretense  are  unknown,  with  stores  of 
manifold  wealth ;  they  have  the  liberty  of  broad  do- 
mains, grottoes,  and  natural  lakes,  cool  Tempe-like 
valleys,  and  the  -  lowing  of  oxen,  and  luxurious  slum- 
bers in  the  shade  are  there  at  their  call.  There  are 
lawns  and  dens  where  wild  beasts  hide,  and  a  youth 


76  THE  GEORGICS. 

strong  to  labor  and  inured  to  scanty  fare.  Here,  too, 
is  religion  and  reverend  elders  ;  among  them  it  was 
that  Justice  left  the  last  print  of  her  feet  as  she  with- 
drew from  earth. 

As  for  me,  first  of  all  I  would  pra}^  that  the  charm- 
ing Muses,  whose  minister  I  am,  for  the  great  love  that 
has  smitten  me,  would  receive  me  graciously,  and  teach 
me  the  courses  of  the  stars  in  heaven,  the  various 
eclipses  of  the  sun  and  the  agonies  of  the  moon,  whence 
come  quakings  of  the  earth,  what  is  the  force  by  which 
the  deep  seas  swell  to  the  bursting  of  their  barriers  and 
settle  down  again  on  themselves  —  wh}"  the  winter  suns 
make  such  haste  to  dip  in  ocean,  or  what  is  the  retard- 
ing cause  which  makes  the  nights  move  slowly.  But  if 
I  should  be  restrained  from  sounding  these  depths  of 
nature  by  cold  sluggish  blood  stagnating  about  my 
heart,  then  let  me  delight  in  the  country-,  and  the 
streams  that  freshen  the  valle3^s — let  me  love  river 
and  woodland  with  an  unambitious  love.  O  for  those 
plains  —  for  Spercheius  and  Taj^gete,  the  revel-ground 
of  Spartan  maidens  !  O  for  one  to  set  me  down  in  the 
cool  glens  of  Haemus,  and  shelter  me  beneath  the  giant 
shade  of  its  boughs  ! 

^  Happ3'  the  man  who  has  gained  a  knowledge  of  the 
causes  of  things,  and  so  trampled  under  foot  all  fears 
and  fate's  relentless  decree,  and  the  roar  of  insatiate 
Acheron.  Yet  not  the  less  blest  is  he  who  has  won 
the  friendship  of  the  rural  gods,  Paji  and  old  Silvanus, 
and  the  sisterhood  of  Nymphs.  He  is  not  moved  by 
honors  that  the  people  confer,  or  the  purple  of  empire, 
or  civil  feuds,  that  make  brothers  swerve  from  brothers* 
dut}' ;  or  the  Daciaii  coming  down  from  the  Hister,  his 
sworn  ally  ;  no,  nor  by  the  great  -Roman  state  and  the 
death  throes  of  subject  kingdoms :    he  never  felt  the 


T^ 


BOOK  IL  11 

pang  of  pity  for  the  poor,  or  of  envy  for  the  rich.  The 
fruits  which  the  arms  of  the  trees  present,  which  the 
country  yields  cheerfull}"  of  its  own  sweet  will,  these 
he  gathers ;  the  iron  rigor  of  law,  the  mad  turmoil  of 
the  forum,  the  public  archives,  he  has  looked  on  none 
of  them.  Others  are  disturbing  the  darkness  of  the 
deep  with  their  oars,  rushing  on  the  sword's  point, 
winding  their  way  into  courts  and  kings'  chambers. 
One  is  carrying  havoc  into  a  city  and  its  wretched 
homes,  all  that  he  ma}^  have  a  gem  to  drink  out  of,  and 
Tyrian  purple  to  sleep  on ;  another  is  hoarding  up 
wealth,  and  lying  on  the  bur3ung-place  of  his  gold  ;  one 
is  staring  in  rapt  admiration  at  the  Rostra ;  another, 
open-mouthed,  is  swept  awaj^  by  the  plaudits  of  com- 
mons and  senate  as  they  roll,  a}-,  again  and  again 
along  the  benches ;  men  are  bathed  in  their  brothers' 
blood,  and  glory  in  it ;  they  exchange  the  home  and 
hearth-stone  of  their  love  for  a  life  of  exile,  and  seek 
out  a  countr}' that  lies  under  another  sun.  Meanwhile 
the  husbandman  has  displaced  the  soil  with  his  crooked 
ploughshare  —  thence  comes  his  3'ear's  emplo3'ment  — 
thence  comes  sustenance  for  his  country  and  his  own 
little  homestead  alike,  and  for  his  herds  of  oxen  and 
the  bullocks  that  have  served  him  so  well.  ^The  stream 
of  plenty  knows  no  pause  ;  the  year  is  alwa3-s  teeming 
either  with  apples  or  with  animal  produce,  or  the  sheaf  i^Q^A' 
of  Ceres'  corn-ears,  loading  the  furrows  with  increase, 
and  bursting  the  barns.  Winter  is  come  :  the  berr}'  of 
Sicyon  is  being  bruised  in  the  oil-presses  ;  see  how  fat 
the  swine  come  off  from  their  meal  of  acorns  ;  there  are 
arbutes  in  the  woods  for  the  picking,  or  for  a  change, 
autumn  is  dropping  its  various  produce  at  his  feet, 
and  high  up  on  the  sunny  rocks  the  vintage  is  being 
baked  into  ripeness.     Then,  too,  there  are  his  sweet 


78  THE  GEORGICS. 

children  ever  hanging  on  his  lips  —  his  virtuous  house- 
^  hold  keeps  the  tradition  of  purity  ;  the  cows  are  letting 

x^)  down  their  milky  udders,  and  fat  kids  in  grass  luxuri- 

ant as  the}',  are  engaging  together  horn  against  horn. 
He,  the  master,  keeps  holiday's,  and  stretched  at  ease 
on  the  grass,  with  a  turf  fire  in  the  middle,  and  a  merrj^ 
company  wreathing  the  bowl,  calls  on  thee,  god  of  the 
wine-press,  with  a  libation,  and  sets  up  on  the  elm  a 
mark  for  spearing  matches  among  the  herdsmen,  and 
they  strip  their  bodies,  hard  as  iron,  for  a  country 
wrestle.  Such  were  the  arts  of  cultivation  practiced 
of  old  by  the  Sabines,  and  by  Remus  and  his  brother ; 
such,  in  fact,  the  life  in  which  Etruria  grew  to  strength, 

.  ^     ,  and  in  which  Rome  has  become  the  glory  of  the  earth, 

\^y*  embracing  seven  hills  with  the  wall  of  a  single  city. 

Naj^,  in  days  before  the  rule  of  the  Cretan  king,  before 
our  race  in  its  impietj'  began  to  regale  itself  on  slaugh- 
tered bullocks  —  this  was  the  life  that  was  led  on  earth 
by  Saturn,  monarch  of  the-  golden  age  —  days  when 
the  blast  of  the  trumpet  and  the  hammering  of  the 
sword  on  the  stubborn  anvil  were  sounds  unknown. 

But  we  have  traversed  a  tract  of  boundless  length 
and  breadth,  and  it  is  high  time  to  unyoke  the  steam- 
ing necks  of  our  horses. 


BOOK  III,  79 


BOOK  rrr. 

Op  thee,  too,  mighty  Pales,  shall  be  my  song,  and  of 
thee,  the  poet's  worthy  theme,  the  swain  from  Amphry- 
sus'  bank  —  of  you  also,  j'e  woods  and  streams  of  Ly- 
caeus.  Other  subjects,  which  once  could  have  laid  on 
the  idle  mind  the  spell  of  poesy,  are  all  of  them  hack- 
neyed now.  Who  knows  not  Eurj^stheus,  hardest  of 
masters,  or  the  altars  of  Busiris,  whom  never  tongue 
praised?  Who  has  not  told  the  tale  of  the  lost  boy 
Hylas,  of  Latona  and  her  Delos,  of  Hippodamia  and 
Pelops,  hero  of  the  ivory  shoulder  and  keen  charioteer? 
I  must  essaj^  a  course  by  which  I  too  may  rise  from  the 
ground,  and  ride  in  triumph  over  the  heads  of  mankind. 
Yes,  I  will  be  the  first,  if  but  lip  hold  out,  to  dislodge 
the  Aonian  muses  from  their  mountain  home,  and  carry 
them  with  me  in  my  victorious  progress  into  my  native 
land.  I  will  be  the  first  to  bring  back  to  thee,  my  Man- 
tua, the  palms  of  Idumea,  and  on  the  broad  greensward 
I  will  build  a  temple  of  marble  by  the  water's  side,  where 
Mincius  trails  his  great  breadth  along  in  lazy  windings, 
and  fringes  his  banks  with  soft  rushes  as  he  goes.  In 
the  shrine  I  will  have  Caesar,  the  tutelar  god  of  the 
temple.  In  his  honor  I,  the  hero  of  the  day,  in  full 
pomp  of  Tyrian  purple,  will  have  driven  by  the  river's 
bank  a  hundred  four-horse  cars.  My  fame  shall  draw 
all  Greece  away  from  Alpheus  and  the  grove  of  Molor- 
chus,  to  contend  in  the  footrace  and  with  the  gloves  of 
raw  hide,  while  I  with  stripped  olive  leaves  wreathed 
round  my  brow,  will  oflfer  gifts  at  the  altar.  The  time 
is  come  —  what  joy,  to  lead  the  stately  procession  to 


80  THE  GEORGICS. 

the  temple,  and  see  the  bullocks  slaughtered,  or  to  mark 
on  the  stage  how  the  fronts  turn  round  and  the  scene 
withdraws,  and  how  the  embroidered  Britons  lift  that 
grand  purple  curtain  from  the  ground !  On  the  temple 
doors  I  will  have  sculptured,  all  of  gold  and  solid  ivory, 
the  battle  of  the  Ganges,  and  the  conquering  arms  of  our 
own  Quirinus ;  ay,  and  there,  in  full  tide  of  war,  swell- 
ing higli,  shall  be  seen  the  Nile,  and  columns  built  high 
with  sailors'  brass.  I  will  throw  in,  too,  Asia's  van- 
quished cities,  and  Niphates  with  his  shattered  crest, 
and  the  Parthian,  who  stakes  his  all  on  flight  and 
treacherous  volleys  from  behind,  and  those  two  trophies 
torn  from  foes  at  the  two  ends  of  earth  —  those  two 
nations  led  in  triumph  from  the  two  coasts  of  ocean.  I 
will  set  up,  too,  Parian  marble  in  breathing  statues,  the 
lineage  of  Assaracus,  and  the  great  names  of  the  house 
that  comes  down  from  Jove,  old  father  Tros,  and  the 
builder  of  Tro3%  the  Cynthian  god  —  while  Envy  shall 
be  seen,  hiding  her  miserable  head  from  the  Furies  and 
the  gloomy  flood  of  Coc3'tus,  and  the  snakes  that  coil 
round  Ixion,  the  enormous  wheel,  and  the  never  baflfled 
stone.  Meanwhile,  pursue  we  tlie  Dr3'ads'  woods  and 
glades,  virgin  as  they,  the  hard  task  that  you  have  laid 
•  on  me,  m}^  MiEcenas.  Uninspired  b}^  3'ou,  no  lofty  work 
can  my  mind  essa3'.  Come  along  —  no  loitering  or  de- 
la3^  —  here  is  Cithaeron  calling  us  in  full  cry,  and  the 
hounds  of  Ta3'gete,  and  Epidaurus  with  her  well-trained 
horses  —  a  cr3^  rebounding  in  echoes  from  the  applaud- 
ing woods.  But  erelong  I  will  gird  myself  to  sing  of 
those  fier3^  fights  of  Caesar,  and  waft  his  name  in  glorv' 
down  a  length  of  centuries,  long  as  those  which  sepa- 
rate the  cradle  of  Tithonus  from  Csesar  himself. 

Whether  a  man  in  admiring  ambition  of  the  prize  of 
the  Ol3^mpic  palm,  breed  horses,  or  breed  bullocks,  that 


BOOK  III.  81 

shall  be  strong  for  ploughing,  let  his  first  care  be  to 
choose  dams  of  the  mold  required.  That  cow  is  best 
shaped  that  is  grim-looking,  with  an  ugly  head,  an  abun- 
dance of  neck,  and  dewlaps  hanging  down  from  jaw  to 
leg  ;  with  no  end  to  length  of  her  side,  and  ever3'thing 
large  about  her  down  to  her  foot,  her  horns  curved  in- 
wards and  her  ears  under  them  hairy.  Nor  should  I 
dislike  to  see  her  dappled  with  spots  of  white  or  rebel- 
ling against  the  yoke,  and  sometimes  savage  with  her 
horns,  her  countenance  approaching  a  bull's,  tall  alto- 
gether, and,  as  she  moves,  sweeping  her  footsteps  with 
the  tip  of  her  tail.  The  age  for  service  to  the  child-birth 
goddess  and  the  just  claims  of  wedlock  is  over  before 
ten  years,  as  it  begins  after  four  ;  in  the  rest  of  life  there 
is  no  aptness  for  breeding,  no  strength  for  the  plough. 
Meantime,  while  the  luxuriance  of  j^our  cattle's  youth 
is  still  unspent  give  your  males  liberty  ;  be  the  first  to 
send  in  j^our  herds,  and  supply  race  after  race  by  suc- 
cessive propagation.  Poor  mortals  that  we  are,  ourM 
brightest  dajs  of  life  are  ever  the  first  to  flj^ ;  on  creeps 
disease  and  the  gloom  of  age,  and  suffering  sweeps  us 
off",  and  the  ruthless  cruelty  of  death.  Constantlj' there 
will  be  those  whose  weakly  mold  you  would  gladly  ex- 
change ;  as  constantly  recruit  j'-our  stock  ;  and  that  you 
may  not  deplore  losses  when  too  late,  prevent  them, 
and  every  year  x)ick  for  your  herd  a  young  supply. 

Your  breed  of  horses,  loo,  must  be  chosen  with  no 
less  care.  Mark  me,  and  let  those  whom  you  mean  to 
rear  as  the  propagators  of  their  line  have  even  from  their 
first  youth  the  advantage  of  j^our  special  pains.  See, 
from  the  day  of  his  birth,  a  colt  of  a  noble  family,  how 
high  he  steps  in  the  pasture,  and  with  what  spring  he 
brings  down  his  legs.  Fearlessly  he  leads  the  way,  is 
the  first  to  brave  the  threatening  flood  and  trust  his 
6 


82  THE  GEORGICS. 

weight  on  the  untried  bridge  —  no  terror  for  him  have 
idle  ala^^ms.  Look  at  the  height  of  his  neck,  the  sharp 
cut  of  his  head,  the  shortness  of  his  belly,  the  plump- 
ness of  his  back,  and  the  luxuriance  of  the  firm  flesh  about 
that  chest  which  swells  so  with  life.  For  color,  j'our 
best  are  bay  and  blue-gray  ;  the  white  and  the  dun  are 
the  worst.  Now,  if  he  happens  to  hear  the  sound  of 
arms  in  the  distance,  no  standing  still  for  him  ;  he  pricks 
his  ears,  his  whole  body  quivers,  he  snorts,  and  works 
in  his  nostrils  the  gathered  fire.  His  mane  is  thick, 
and  as  he  tosses  it,  rests  on  his  right  shoulder.  The 
spine  which  runs  between  his  loins  is  hollow ;  his  hoof 
goes  deep  into  the  ground,  and  has  the  deep  ring  of 
solid  horn.  Such  was  the  steed  that  learned  to  obey  the 
rein  of  Amyclsean  Pollux,  C^llarus,  and  those  of  which 
Greek  song  has  preserved  the  memory,  the  horses  of 
Mars,  and  the  pair  of  the  mighty  Achilles ;  ay,  such 
was  the  great  god,  Saturn,  when  quick  as  lightning  he 
flung  his  mane  over  that  horse's  neck  of  his  as  he  heard 
his  wife's  step,  and  as  he  ran,  thrilled  through  the  height 
and  depth  of  Pelion  with  his  clear  sharp  neigh. 

Yet  even  him  too,  when  the  burden  of  disease  or  the 
increasing  slowness  of  years  makes  him  fail,  you  must 
shut  up  at  home,  nor  suff*er  his  old  age  to  be  a  disgrace  ; 
for  an  old  horse  is  a  cold  lover.* 

Your  first  care  then  will  be  in  each  case  to  take  note 
of  the  horse's  spirit,  and  of  his  age  ;  passing  thence  to 
observe  the  rest  of  his  character,  the  breed  of  his  sire 
and  dam,  and  how  keen  the  pang  of^  defeat  or  the  thrill 
of  victory.  Who  has  not  watched  the  headlong  speed 
of  a  racer,  the  chariots  swallowing  the  ground  before 

*  The  MS.  is  interrupted  for  three  lines.  —  [Ed.] 


BOOK  III.  83 

them  as  they  pour  along  in  a  torrent  from  their  flood- 
gates, when  the  drivers'  youthful  hopes  are  at  their 
height,  and  the  bounding  heart  is  drained  by  each  eager 
pulsation  ?  There  are  they,  with  their  ever  ready  lash 
circhng  in  the  air,  bending  forward  to  let  the  reins  go  ; 
on  flies  the  wheel,  swift  and  hot  as  fire  ;  now  they  ride 
low,  now  they  seem  to  tower  aloft,  shooting  through  the 
void  air,  and  rising  against  the  sky ;  no  stint,  no  stay, 
while  the  3'ellow  sand  mounts  up  in  a  cloud,  and  each 
is  sprinkled  with  the  foam  and  breath  of  those  behind 
him :  that  is  what  ambition  can  do,  that  is  the  measure 
of  their  zeal  for  success.  Erichthonius  was  the  first 
who  rose  to  the  feat  of  coupling  a  car  and  four  horses 
together,  standing  erect  above  the  wheels  that  swept 
him  on  in  triumph.  The  bridle  and  the  ring  were  a 
present  from  the  Lapithse  of  Mount  Pelion,  who 
mounted  the  steed's  back,  and  taught  the  horseman, 
arms  and  all,  to  spurn  the  ground  and  complicate  his 
haughty  paces.  Each  task  is  arduous  alike  ;  for  each 
the  trainer  looks  out  for  a  young  one,  with  a  high  spirit 
and  a  fleet  foot ;  though  the  veteran  may  have  turned 
the  foe  to  flight  in  many  a  battle,  though  his  birthplace 
be  Epirus  or  good  Mycenae  itself,  and  the  founder  of 
his  line  no  less  than  Neptune. 

These  points  first  noted,  they  are  all  zeal  as  the  time 
draws  near,  and  bestow  their  whole  pains  to  swell  out 
with  firm  fat  the  horse  whom  they  have  chosen  as  the 
leader  of  the  herd  and  named  as  its  lord.  They  cut  for 
him  flowering  herbage  and  ply  him  with  springs  and 
with  corn,  lest  he  prove  unequal  to  the  task  he  loves, 
and  the  sire's  insuflSciency  be  reflected  in  a  weak  oflT- 
spring.  But  the  herd  itself,  of  set  purpose  the}^  bring 
down  and  make  lean,  and  when  the  first  promptings  of 
love  are  felt,  refuse  them  fodder  and  keep  them  oflT 


84  THE  GEORGICS. 

from  running  streams.  Often  too  they  shake  them  with 
galloping  and  tire  them  in  the  sun,  when  the  threshing- 
floor  is  groaning  heavily  with  the  pounding  of  the  corn, 
and  when  the  empty  chaff  is  tossed  to  the  rising  west- 
ern breeze. 

Now  the  care  of  the  sires  begins  to  wane,  and  that  of 
the  dams  to  take  its  place.  When  the  mares'  time  is 
out  and  the}^  go  about  in  foal,  let  no  one  suffer  them 
to  pull  in  harness  to  a  heavy  wagon,  or  clear  the  road 
with  a  high  leap,  scour  the  plain  with  the  speed  of  fire, 
or  breast  a  violent  torrent.  Wide  lawns  are  the  places 
for  them  to  graze  in,  and  the  sides  of  brimming  rivers, 
where  they  may  have  moss  and  a  bank  of  the  greenest 
grass,  and  the  shelter  of  a  cave,  and  the  shadow  of  a 
rock  flung  full  over  the  ground.  About  the  groves  of 
Silarus  and  the  oaks  that  make  Alburnum  so  green, 
swarms  an  insect  whose  Latin  name  is  asilus^  rendered 
in  Greek  by  cestrus,  a  pest  with  a  harsh  loud  hum, 
which  scares  the  cattle  and  makes  them  fly  right  and 
left  through  the  woodland,  while  the  air  is  stunned  and 
maddened  with  their  bellowings,  the  air  and  the  wood- 
land and  the  banks  of  Tanager  which  runs  dr}-  in  the 
sun.  This  was  the  monster  of  old  with  which  Juno 
wreaked  that  fearful  vengeance  of  hers,  the  scourge 
which  she  devised  for  the  heifer  of  Inachus,  and  so  3'ou 
too  —  for  midday  heat  makes  its  persecutions  more 
savage  —  should  shield  j^our  teeming  herds  from  its 
sting,  letting  them  graze  only  when  the  sun  is  just  up 
or  the  stars  are  ushering  in  the  night. 

After  delivery,  the  farmer's  whole  care  is  transferred 
to  the  calves.  At  once  he  brands  them  with  tokens 
and  names  to  mark  the  race,  distinguishing  those  whom 
he  chooses  to  rear  for  breeding,  those  whom  he  prefers 
to  reserve  for  the  altar's  sacred  uses,  and  those  who  are 


BOOK  in.  85 

meant  to  break  up  the  ground.*  The  rest  of  the  cattle 
are  grazing,  as  well  they  may,  wherever  the  grass  is 
green.  Meantime  do  you  take  those  whom  you  would 
train  to  the  love  and  service  of  the  land,  school  them 
while  the}^  are  yet  calves,  and  set  out  on  the  path  of  dis- 
cipline while  the  youthful  mind  is  docile  and  the  time  of 
life  pliable.  Let  loose  rings  of  slender  osier  be  their 
first  collars.  Then,  when  the  freeborn  neck  has  grown 
familiar  with  bondage,  use  these  necklaces  as  the  means 
of  yoking  them  together  in  a  well-matched  pair,  and 
make  them  step  side  by  side.  By  this  time  too  let  them 
have  an  empty  wagon  often  and  often  dragged  at  their 
heels,  just  printing  the  wheel-rut  on  the  surface-dust. 
That  done,  you  should  next  have  the  rattle  of  the 
beechen  axle,  as  it  pulls  against  a  good  stout  weight, 
and.  a  copper-plated  pole  to  draw  the  wheels  thereto  at- 
tached. Meantime,  ere  their  youth  is  broken  in,  you 
will  not  onl3"  give  them  grass  or  starveling  willow  leaves 
and  marsh  sedge,  but  standing  corn  plucked  by  the 
hand  ;  and  again,  when  j^our  cows  have  just  been  bear- 
ing, do  not,  as  our  fathers  did,  force  them  to  fill  the 
snowy  milk-pail,  but  let  them  spend  their  udders  entire 
on  the  offspring  they  love. 

But  if  3-our  bent  is  rather  towards  battle  and  fierce 
brigades,  or  to  glide  at  Pisa  by  Alpheus*  waters  on 
wheels  smooth  as'  they,  and  in  the  grove  of  Jupiter  drive 
the  flying  car,  learn  that  a  horse's  first  task  is  to  bear 
the  sight  of  martial  fury  and  the  harness  of  war,  the 
sound  of  the  clarion,  the  long-drawn  rumbling  of  the 
wheel,  and  the  jingle  of  the  bridle  as  he  stands  in  the 
stall ;  keener,  too,  and  keener  should  grow  his  pleasure 

*  This  phrase  stands  in  the  MS.  for :  — 

Aut  scindere  terram, 
Et  campum  horrentem  fractis  invertere  glebis.  —  [Ed.] 


86  THE  GEORGICS. 

in  his  master's  caressing  voice,  and  more  intense  the 
liixur}^  as  he  hears  his  neck  patted.  To  this  he  should 
he  inured  from  the  moment  of  his  weaning  from  his 
mother's  milk  ;  ever  and  anon  too  he  should  submit  his 
head  to  bands  of  soft  osier,  ere  his  strength  is  set,  or 
his  nerves  steady,  or  his  hold  on  life  firm.  But  when 
three  summers  are  past  and  the  fourth  arrived,  let  him 
begin  at  once  to  scour  the  ring,  his  paces  ringing  a 
regular  time,  and  his  legs  successively  gathered  into  a 
curve,  and  let  him  show  that  he  is  working  against  his 
will ;  then,  then  let  him  challenge  the  winds  to  a  race, 
flying  along  over  the  open  spaces,  as  if  he  had  no  bridle 
in  his  mouth,  and  scarcely  setting  his  footprint  on  the 
sand's  surface  —  as  when  from  polar  climes  the  north 
wind  stoops  in  full  force,  driving  before  him  the  storms 
of  Scythia  and  the  rainless  clouds ;  the  tall  waving 
corn  and  the  billow}'  plains  are  ruffled  by  the  first  light 
breeze,  and  a  rustling  is  heard  in  the  forest  tops,  and 
the  long  waves  come  pushing  to  the  shore  —  on  he  flies, 
on  wings  that  sweep  land  and  sea  ahke.  A  horse  like 
this  will  be  seen  all  sweat  at  the  goal  of  Elis  and  its 
mighty  circles,  spurting  out  flakes  of  bloody  foam,  or 
will  draw  the  Belgian  car  with  a  grace,  with  that  gentle 
neck  of  his.  Then  at  last  let  their  mighty  bulk  be  dis- 
tended at  will  with  the  fattening  corn  mess  after  the 
breaking-in  is  well  over  —  for  before,  such  food  will 
raise  their  spirit  too  high,  and  make  them  refuse  to  bear 
the  education  of  the  pliant  lash,  or  obey  the  sharp  curb. 
But  there  is  nothing  that  tells  more  towards  invigor- 
ating their  strength,  than  to  shield  them  with  all  3'our 
care  from  the  stings  of  secret  passion,  whether  your 
preference  is  for  the  service  of  oxen  or  of  horses.  To 
that  end,  the  bull  is  sent  into  distant  exile  in  solitary 
pastures,  with  a  mountain  before  and  a  broad  river  be- 


BOOK  III.  87 

tween  him  and  his  home  ;  or  is  shut  in  close  confinement 
in  his  well-stored  crib.  For  the  female  keeps  insensibly 
preying  on  his  strength,  and  consuming  it  by  the  very 
sight  of  her,  and  leaves  him  no  thought  for  forest  shelter 
or  grassy  food.  Nay,  those  endearing  charms  of  hers 
often  drive  her  haughtj^  lovers  to  use  their  horns  for 
settling  their  rival  claims.  There  she  is  grazing  in  Sila^s 
mighty  wood,  the  lovety  heifer  ;  they  are  in  the  thick  of 
battle,  dealing  wounds  with  all  their  force,  now  one,  now 
another ;  the  black  blood  is  bathing  their  frames,  and 
pushing  horn  meets  pushing  horn  with  loud  bellowing, 
that  echoes  through  the  woods  and  the  length  of  the  fir- 
mament* Nor,  when  all  is  over,  are  the  combatants 
wont  to  stall  together ;  the  beaten  champion  retires  to 
distant  banishment  in  an  unknown  clime,  with  many  a 
groan  for  his  disgrace  and  the  cruel  wounds  of  his 
haughtj'  conqueror,  and  many  for  his  unredressed  loss, 
the  loss  of  his  love  —  a  wistful  look  at  his  stall,  and  the 
king  has  quitted  his  ancestral  domain.  So  now  all  his 
care  is  to  practice  his  powers  —  on  the  hard  rocks  the 
whole  night  long  he  makes  his  unpillowed  bed  —  his 
food  the  bristly  leaf  and  the  pointed  sedge ;  and  he 
proves  himself,  and  learns  to  throw  his  rage  into  his 
horns  by  butting  at  a  tree's  trunk,  and  assails  the  winds 
with  his  blows,  and  spurns  the  filing  sand  in  prelude 
for  the  fray.  Then,  when  his  powers  are  mustered,  and 
his  strength  recruited,  he  raises  the  standard,  and  comes 
headlong  down  on  his  oblivious  foe  —  like  a  billow  that 
begins  to  whiten  far  away  in  the  mid  sea,  and  draws  up 
from  the  main  its  bellying  curve  —  like  it,  too,  when 
rolling  to  the  shore,  it  roars  terrific  among  the  rocks,  and 
bursts  in  bulk  as  huge  as  their  parent  cliff — while  the 
water  below  boils  up  in  foaming  eddies,  and  discharges 
from  its  depths  the  murky  sand. 


88  THE   GEORGICS. 

Nay,  it  is  the  wont  of  the  whole  race  of  men  and 
beasts  all  the  world  through,  the  tribes  of  the  waters, 
cattle,  and  gaj'-colored  birds,  to  rush  headlong  into  this 
fiery  madness  ;  love  fastens  oli  all  alike.  At  no  other 
season  has  the  lioness  forgotten  her  cubs,  and  roamed 
the  plains  in  fiercer  mood  ;  never  has  the  monstrous  bear 
spread  death  and  havoc  more  widely  through  the  forest ; 
then  is  the  wild  boar  savage,  then  the  tigress  at  her 
worst.  Ah  !  it  is  bad  wandering  then  alone  in  the  Lib- 
yan waste.  Mark  you  not  how  horses  thrill  through  their 
whole  frame,  if  but  a  scent  conveys  to  them  the  breath 
they  know  so  well  ?  No  power  to  check  them  now  has 
the  rider's  rein  or  the  lash  plied  with  fury,  or  rocks  and 
beetling  crags,  or  rivers  crossing  their  path,  tearing  up 
mountains  and  hurling  them  down  the  tide.  See  !  there 
is  the  great  Sabine  boar,  rushing  along  and  sharpening 
his  tusks,  pounding  the  earth  before  him  with  his  feet, 
rubbing  his  sides  against  a  tree,  and  in  this  way  and 
that  hardening  his  shoulders  against  wounds.  What  of 
the  3"outh,  whose  marrow  the  fierceness  of  love  has 
turned  to  flame  ?  The  storm  has  broken  loose,  and  the 
night  is  dark,  yet  he  swims  the  troubled  sea  ;  over  his 
head  thunders  heaven's  huge  gate,  and  the  waves  that 
dash  on  the  rocks  shout  in  his  ears  ;  in  vain  ;  nor  can 
the  tears  of  his  parents  call  him  back,  nor  the  maiden 
of  his  love,  whose  cruel  death  must  follow  his.  What 
of  Bacchus'  spotted  lynxes,  and  the  fierce  tribes  of 
wolves  and  dogs?  What  of  the  fight  which  un warlike 
stags  are  known  to  show  ?  Them  I  pass  by  ;  for  indeed 
above  all  others  conspicuous  is  the  rage  of  the  mares 
—  such  was  the  boon  with  which  Venus'  grace  endowed 
them,  what  time  Glaucus  had  his  limbs  devoured  by  his 
Potnian  chariot-steeds.  On  they  are  drawn  by  love, 
over  Gargarus,  over  the  roar  of  Ascanius ;  the  moun- 


BOOK  III.  8^ 

tain  they  scale,  the  river  they  swim ;  and  soon  as  ever 
the  spark  touches  their  craving  marrow,  in  spring  chiefly, 
for  it  is  in  spring  that  heat  revisits  their  frames,  they 
stand  all  of  them  with  their  faces  turned  westward  on 
the  cliff-top,  and  catch  the  light-floating  breezes ;  and 
oft,  without  wedlock  of  any  sort,  impregnated  by  the 
wind,  over  hill  and  rock  and  dipping  vale,  they  fly  here 
and  there  —  not  towards  thj'  birthplace,  Eur  us,  or  the 
Sun's,  but  to  north,  or  north-west,  or  where  the  south, 
blackest  of  winds,  is  born,  to  sadden  heaven's  face  with 
his  rain  and  chill.  Then  it  is  there  trickles  from  them 
a  thick  fluid  which  the  shepherds  rightly  call  horse- 
madness  —  horse-madness,  which  fell  step-dames  have 
oft  gathered  up,  to  form  a  mess  with  herbs  and  charms 
as  baleful. 

But  time  is  flying,  flying  past  recall,  while  we  in  fond 
interest  are  making  our  circuit  from  point  to  point. 
Enough  of  herds,  another  part  of  our  charge  is  3'et  to  do 
—  the  treatment  of  wooll}'  flocks  and  hairy  goats.  Here 
is  a  task  indeed ;  here  fix  your  hopes  of  renown,  ye 
brave  sons  of  the  soil.  For  myself,  I  too  am  well  as- 
sured how  hard  the  struggle  will  be  for  language  to  plant 
her  standard  here,  and  invest  a  theme  so  slender  with 
her  own  peculiar  glory  ;  but  there  is  a  rapturous  charm 
that  whirls  me  along  over  Parnassus'  lonel}^  steeps  —  a 
joy  in  surmounting  heights  where  no  former  wheel  has 
worn  a  way,  no  easy  slope  leads  down  to  the  Castalian 
spring. 

Now,  dread  Pales,  now  for  a  louder  and  loftier  strain. 
On  my  inauguration  I  proclaim  that  the  sheep  crop  their 
grass  in  soft-laid  sheds  till  summer,  in  due  course,  comes 
back  with  its  leaves,  and  that  plenty  of  straw  and  hand- 
fuls  of  fern  be  strewn  on  the  hard  ground  under  them, 
lest  the  chill  of  the  ice  harm  your  delicate  cattle,  and 


90  THE  GEORGICS. 

engender  scab  and  foot-rot,  to  your  disgrace  and  dis- 
gust. Passing  thence,  I  order  that  the  goats  have  good 
store  of  arbute  leaves  and  supplies  of  fresh  running 
water,  and  that  their  sheds  be  placed  away  from  the 
wind,  full  fronting  the  winter  sun  in  his  mid-da}'  quar- 
ter, at  the  time  when  the  cold  bearer  of  the  water  urn  is 
setting  and  sprinkling  the  skirts  of  the  departing  year. 
Yes,  our  goats  should  be  shielded  with  care  as  serious 
as  our  sheep ;  nor  will  their  service  stand  you  in  less 
stead,  high  as  is  the  rate  of  exchange  of  Milesian  wool 
engrained  deep  with  Tyrian  scarlet.  From  them  comes 
a  more  swarming  progeny,  from  them  milk  in  plenteous 
abundance ;  the  fuller  the  froth  of  3'our  morning's  pail 
from  the  drj'-drained  teat,  the  more  luxuriant  will  flow 
the  stream  from  the  same  udder  when  pressed  at 
night.  Nor  is  this  all  —  the  he-goat  of  Cinyps  has  his 
beard  and  hoary  chin,  aye,  all  his  shaggy  hair,  clipped 
for  the  use  of  the  camp,  or  to  cover  some  poor  shiver- 
ing seaman.  For  their  food,  the}'  graze  among  the  for- 
ests and  the  summits  of  Lycseus,  among  stiff  prickl}^ 
bushes  and  brakes  that  cling  to  the  heights,  and  of 
themselves,  with  never-failing  memory,  they  come  back 
home,  showing  their  3'oung  the  way,  and  just  heave 
their  full-charged  udders  over  the  threshold.  Spend 
all  your  pains  then  in  fencing  them  from  ice  and  sleety 
blasts,  considering  how  few  their  calls  on  the  care  of 
man  ;  give  them  provender  and  twigs  for  food  with  lux- 
uriant hand,  and  put  no  lock  on  your  hayloft  the  whole 
winter  through. 

But  when  the  zephyr's  call  is  heard,  and  summer's 
genial  smile  sends  both  flocks  alike  into  mountain  lawn 
and  mountain  pasture,  then  let  us  be  read}'  with  the 
first  dawn  of  the  morning  star  to  batten  on  the  cool 
fresh  fields  while  daybreak  is  young,  while  the  grass  is 


BOOK  in.  91 

hoar,  and  the  dew  on  the  tender  herbage  is  most  grate- 
ful to  cattle.  Afterwards,  when  a  sense  of  tlnrst  crowds 
on  the  fourth  hour  of  the  day,  and  the  cicalas  split  the 
woods  with  their  plaintive  note,  bid  j^our  flocks  stand 
at  the  well-side,  or  by  the  deep  pool,  to  drink  water 
running  through  oaken  troughs ;  but  in  mid-day  heat 
let  them  hunt  out  a  shady  vale,  where,  belike,  Jove's 
mighty  oak,  strong  in  time-honored  power,  spreads  its 
enormous  boughs ;  or  where  the  grove,  black  with 
countless  ilexes,  reposes  in  hallowed  shadow.  Then 
once  more  give  them  the  thin  clear  stream,  once  more 
feed  them  till  set  of  sun,  when  the  cool  of  eve  allays  the 
air,  and  the  dews  now  falling  from  the  moon  revive  the, 
lawns,  and  the  kingfisher  sings  along  the  shore,  the 
goldfinch  through  the  brake. 

Why  should  my  verse  take  you  along  with  the  shep- 
herds of  Lib3^a,  their  pastures,  and  their  camps,  settle- 
ments of  thin-spread  huts  ?  Often,  daj^  and  niglft  to- 
gether, and  a  whole  month  in  succession,  their  cattle 
graze,  traveling  on  into  a  length  of  desert,  without 
shelter  of  any  sort,  so  vast  is  the  extent  of  plain.  The 
African  herdsman  carries  with  him  all  his  goods  — 
house,  and  hearth,  and  arms ;  his  dog  from  Amycla?, 
and  his  quiver  from  Crete — just  as  the  keen  Eoman, 
when,  armed  and  equipped  in  Roman  fashion,  he  makes 
his  march  under  his  tyrannous  load,  and,  ere  he  is  looked 
for,  has  his  camp  ready  pitched,  and  is  drawn  up  before 
his  foe.  What  a  change  to  the  tribes  of  Scythia  and 
the  water  of  Mseotis—  to  the  scene  where  Ister  rolls 
turbidly  his  yellow  sands,  and  Rhodope  stretches  her- 
self full  under  the  pole,  and  turns  again  !  There  they 
keep  their  herds  shut  up  in  stalls  —  never  a  blade  of 
grass  is  seen  on  the  plain,  never  a  leaf  on  the  tree  ;  but 
the  land  lies  a  formless  mass  of  snowy  heaps  and  deep 


92  THE   GEORGICS, 

ice,  and  rises  seven  ells  high.  Every  da}'  is  winter, 
every  air  the  north  wind's  frosty  breath.  Nay,  the  sun 
never  dispels  the  wan  shades  of  night,  not  when  he 
mounts  his  car  and  scales  the  height  of  the  sky,  nor 
when  he  laves  his  headlong  wheels  in  ocean's  glowing 
flood.  Sudden  crusts  form  on  the  running  stream,  and 
the  water  can  now  support  on  its  back  the  iron-bound 
wheel  —  the  water  that  once  welcomed  ships,  and  now 
welcomes  the  broad  wain.  Coppers  are  daily  split,  and 
clothes  congeal  on  the  back,  and  clear-flowing  wine  is 
chopped  with  hatchets  ;  whole  pools  are  turned  to  solid 
ice,  and  stiflening  icicles  harden  on  the  untrimmed  beard. 
^Meantime,  as  if  there  were  no  frost,  snow  is  falling  from 
all  the  sky :  the  cattle  perish  —  great  hulks  of  oxen 
stand  with  frost  all  about  them  —  stags  massed  into  a 
troop  are  numbed  b}'  a  weight  not  their  own,  and  hardly 
lift  the  tips  of  their  horns  above  it.  No  need  of  letting 
in  dogs  on  them,  hunting  them  with  nets,  or  scaring 
them  with  the  terror  of  the  crimson  feather  ;  as  they  are 
pushing  in  vain  with  their  chests  at  the  mountain  of 
snow,  men  kill  them  weapon  in  hand,  butcher  them  bel- 
lowing loud,  and  carry  them  oft*  with  shouts  of  triumph. 
For  the  people,  they  keep  careless  holiday  in  caves 
delved  deep  under  the  earth,  with  store  of  timber,  nay, 
whole  elms  pushed  up  to  the  hearth,  and  heaped  on  the 
blaze  —  there  they  lengthen  out  the  night  in  games,  and 
jovialty  imitate  draughts  of  the  vine  with  fermented 
grains  and  acid  service-juice.  Such  is  the  life  of  that 
ungoverned  race  of  men  who  dwell  exposed  to  the 
seven  Hj^perborean  stars,  ever  buffeted  by  the  east 
winds  of  a  Rhipsean  sky,  ever  sheltering  their  frames 
with  the  rough  tawny  coats  of  beasts. 

If  wool  be  your  care,  first  remove  the  prickly  jungle, 
burrs,  caltrops,  and  the  like  ;  avoid  luxuriant  pastures, 


BOOK  III.  93 

and  at  once  choose  flocks  with  white,  soft  fleeces.  But 
the  ram,  however  white  himself,  who  has  but  a  black 
tongue  under  his  mouth's  moist  roof,  set  aside,  lest  he 
blur  the  fleece  of  the  young  lambs  with  dark  spots,  and 
look  about  the  teeming  plain  till  you  find  another.  It 
was  thus,  with  a  present  of  wool,  white  as  snow,  if  we 
ma}^  trust  the  tale,  that  Pan,  Arcadia's  patron,  beguiled 
thee,  bright  goddess  of  the  Moon,  calling  thee  under 
the  tall  forest  trees  ;  nor  didst  thou  slight  the  call. 

But  if  milk  is  the  farmer's  passion,  let  him  with  his 
own  hand  carry  to  the  stalls  liicern  and  lotus  in  plenty, 
and  salted  herbage.  Hence  they  love  the  water  more, 
and  have  their  udders  more  distended,  and  reproduce 
in  their  milk  a  hidden  flavor  of  salt.  Many  separate 
the  kid  from  its  dam  when  fresh  dropped,  and  at  once 
front  its  mouth  with  an  iron-pointed  muzzle.  The  milk 
they  have  taken  at  dawn  and  in  hours  of  daylight  they 
churn  at  night ;  the  milk  taken  at  twilight  and  at  sun- 
down they  carry  away  in  baskets  at  daybreak  (it  is  a 
shepherd's  visit  to  town) ,  or  sprinkle  it  sparingly  with 
salt,  and  lay  it  by  for  winter. 

Nor  let  3'our  dogs  be  the  last  thing  thought  of;  but 
bring  up  together  swift  Spartan  hounds  and  a  keen 
Molossian  on  fattening  whey.  Never,  with  them  to 
guard  you,  need  3'ou  quake  for  j^our  stalls  at  a  nightly 
robber  or  an  invasion  of  wolves,  or  at  Iberian  outlaws 
in  3^our  rear.  Often,  too,  3'ou  will  chase  the  wild  ass, 
so  quickly  scared,  and  hark  your  hounds  on  the  hare, 
your  hounds  on  the  doe.  Often  you  will  rouse  the  wild 
boar,  and  dislodge  him  from  his  woody  lair,  baying  and 
driving;  and  along  the  steep  mountains,  in  full  cry, 
force  into  your  net  an  enormous  stag. 

Be  taught  also  to  burn  fragrant  cedar  in  3'our  stalls, 
and  with  the  steam  of  the  Syrian  gum  chase  away 


94  THE    GEORGICS, 

noisome  serpents.  Often  under  sheds  long  undisturbed 
you  find  that  a  viper,  ill  to  handle,  has  been  lurking, 
escaped  in  fear  from  the  light  of  day ;  or  a  cobra,  fond 
of  haunting  the  shelter  and  the  shade,  and  scattering 
its  venom  on  the  cattle  —  cruel  scourge  of  oxen  —  has 
nestled  in  the  ground.  Quick,  shepherds,  quick,  with 
your  stones  and  staves  — -  his  terrors  are  rising,  his 
throat  swollen  and  hissing  —  smite  him  down.  See  !  he 
is  flying,  his  timid  head  already  deep  in  the  ground, 
while  his  writhing  body  and  the  waving  line  of  his  tail 
are  untwisting  themselves,  and  the  final  coil  is  dragging 
its  slow  spires  along.  Then,  too,  there  is  that  deadly 
serpent  in  the  gorges  of  Calabria,  with  breast  erect  and 
wreathed  scaly  back,  flecked  with  great  spots  through- 
out his  bell3'*s  length ;  who,  while  there  are  any  rivers 
welling  from  their  fountains,  and  while  the  earth  is  wet 
with  the  moist  spring  and  the  rainy  south,  haunts  the 
still  waters,  and,  dwelling  on  the  banks  there,  with  fish 
and  clamorous  frogs  satiates  the  glutton  craving  of  his 
black  swollen  maw.  Then,  after  the  pool  is  burned  to  the 
bottom,  and  the  earth  is  gaping  with  heat,  leaps  to  land, 
and,  rolling  eyes  of  fire,  carries  death  into  the  fields, 
savage  with  thirst,  and  maddened  by  the  sunstroke. 
May  it  never  enter  my  mind  to  indulge  the  pleasure 
of  open-air  sleep,  or  to  lie  on  the  grass  on  the  moun- 
tain's wood-grown  ridge,  at  the  moment  when  he,  his 
skin  shed,  in  new  life  and  in  the  beauty  of  youth,  leav- 
ing his  young  at  home,  hatched  or  in  the  shell,  gathers 
himself  up,  towering  to  the  sun,  and  flashes  in  his 
mouth  his  three-forked  tongue. 

About  diseases,  too,  I  will  tell  you,  their  causes  and 
their  symptoms.  Sheep  are  tormented  b}^  a  noisome 
scab,  when  the  cold  rain  and  hoar-frost  of  cruel  winter 
have  sunk  deep  into  their  flesh ;  or  when,  after  shear- 


BOOK  III.  95 

ing,  sweat  unwashed  has  clung  to  the  skin,  or  rough 
brambles  have  wounded  the  body.  For  fear  of  this, 
shepherds  bathe  the  whole  flock  with  fresh  streams,  and 
the  ram  is  plunged  into  the  flood,  his  wool  all  wet  about 
him,  and  once  launched,  goes  floating  down  the  river ; 
or  they  anoint  the  body  after  shearing  with  bitter 
mother-of-oil,  and  mix  scum  of  silver,  and  native  sul- 
phur, and  pitch  from  Ida,  and  wax  softened  by  oil,  and 
sea  onions  and  potent  hellebore,  and  black  bitumen. 
But  never  is  the  fortune  of  the  distemper  so  gracious 
as  when  a  man  has  the  nerve  to  open  the  mouth  of  the 
sore  with  the  knife :  the  mischief  keeps  thriving,  and 
lives  upon  concealment,  while  the  shepherd  is  refusing 
to  appty  a  healing  hand  to  the  wound,  or  sits  praying 
the  gods  to  send  more  favorable  prognostics.  More- 
over, when  the  pain  has  pierced  to  the  bleating  suffer- 
er's bones,  and  is  raging  there,  and  a  parching  fever  is 
preying  on  its  limbs,  it  has  been  found  well  to  carry 
off"  the  fiery  heat  b}-  opening  a  vein  full  throbbing  with 
blood  at  the  bottom  of  the  foot,  as  is  the  wont  of  the 
Bisaltse  and  the  keen  Gelonian,  when  he  flies  to  Rho- 
dope  and  to  the  steppes  of  the  Getse,  and  drinks  milk 
curdled  with  mare's  blood.  If  j^ou  observe  a  sheep 
often  seeking  refuge  in  the  luxurious  shade,  or  indo- 
lently browsing  the  tops  of  the  herbage,  lagging  after 
3'ou  the  last,  or  lying  down  in  the  middle  of  the  field 
while  grazing,  and  at  last  retiring  all  alone  before  the 
late  approach  of  night,  check  the  evil  at  once  with  the 
knife,  ere  the  dire  contagion  spread  through  the  un- 
wary multitude.  Not  so  fast  sweeps  a  whirlwind  over 
the  sea,  with  a  storm  in  its  train,  as  the  thousand  dis- 
tempers that  seize  on  cattle.  It  is  not  single  bodies 
here  and  there  that  the  plague  bears  off",  but  the  whole 
of  a  summer's  fold  all   in  a  moment  —  the  flock  of 


96  THE  GEORGICS. 

the  future  with  that  which  now  is — an  entire  tribe, 
root  and  branch.  Let  him  become  my  witness  who 
chances  to  see  the  skyey  Alps,  and  the  hillside  forts  of 
Noricum,  and  the  fields  of  lapydian  Timavus,  even  as 
they  now  are,  after  time  has  done  so  much  —  the  shep- 
herds' domain  unpeopled,  and  the  lawns  desolate 
through  their  length  and  breadth. 

Here  once,  from  a  distemper  of  the  sky,  a  season 
of  piteous  ruin  set  in,  glowing  with  all  the  furnace-heat 
of  autumn,  and  swept  off  to  death  the  whole  race  of 
beasts,  tame  and  wild ;  tainted  the  pools  of  water, 
and  infected  the  herbage"  with  venom.  Nor  was  the 
path  of  death  straight  and  without  turning :  but  after 
fiery  thirst,  coursing  through  ever}^  vein,  had  drawn 
the  poor  limbs  close  together,  there  was  a  fresh  over- 
flow of  fluid  moistures,  absorbing  into  itself  piece  by 
piece  the  whole  bony  frame,  dissolved  by  pestilence. 
Often,  in  the  middle  of  a  sacrifice,  as  the  victim  was 
standing  at  the  altar,  and  the  snowy  band  of  the  woolen 
fillet  was  being  placed  round  its  brow,  it  fell  dying  be- 
tween the  attendants'  faltering  hands  ;  or  if  the  steel  of 
the  priest  had  given  any  an  earlier  death,  that  victim's 
entrails  make  no  blaze  on  the  altar  thej^  load,  nor  can 
the  prophet  learn  from  them  responses,  to  the  votar3^'s 
questions.  A  thrust  from  beneath  scarcely  stains  the 
knives  with  blood,  and  the  thin  gore  but  just  darkens  the 
surface  of  the  sand.  Thus  3'ou  might  see  calves  dying 
everywhere  among  luxuriant  herbage,  or  yielding  the 
lives  they  love  at  the  well-filled  crib  they  cannot  taste. 
Thus  madness  comes  on  the  dog,  man's  playfellow, 
and  a  panting  cough  shakes  the  diseased  swine,  and 
stops  the  breath  in  their  swollen  throats.  See !  he 
droops,  his  occupation  gone,  his  pasture  neglected,  the 
victorious  steed ;  he  recoils  from  running  streams,  and 


BOOK  III.  97 

beats  the  ground  rapidty  with  his  hoof;  his  ears  drop, 
a  fitful  sweat  breaks  out  on  them,  striking  cold  as 
death  draws  on ;  the  skin  is  dry,  and  when  touched, 
meets  the  hand  with  hardness.  Such  are  the  signs  that 
go  before  death  in  the  early  daj'S  of  the  malady ;  but 
when  in  its  advance  it  begins  to  grow  fierce,  then  at 
last  the  ej^es  are  ablaze,  the  breath  deep-drawn,  and 
sometimes  groaningly  heavy  ;  they  distend  their  flanks 
to  the  bottom  with  a  long-heaved  sob,  black  blood 
trickles  from  their  nostrils,  and  their  obstructed  jaws 
are  closed  on  a  roughened  tongue.  It  was  found  well 
to  drench  them  with  the  wine-god's  breams,  through  a 
horn  placed  in  the  mouth  ;  this  seemed  the  one  way  of 
life  to  the  dj'ing ;  soon,  that  too  was  seen  to  lead  to 
death :  they  were  revived  by  madness  into  fever-heat, 
and,  even  in  the  weakness  of  dissolution  (grant,  ye 
gods,  better  things  to  us  3'our  worshipers,  and  reserve 
this  delusion  for  our  foes) ,  with  their  own  bare  teeth 
mangled  their  own  rent  flesh.  Look  there  —  the  bull, 
smoking  under  the  ploughshare's  stubborn  weight,  falls 
in  a  heap,  disgorges  from  his  mouth  blood  mingled 
with  foam,  and  heaves  a  last  sigh.  The  ploughman 
moves  sadl}"  awa}^,  unyokes  the  surviving  bullock, 
itself  mourning  for  its  brother's  fate,  and  leaves  the 
work  half  done,  and  the  plough  still  buried  in  the  soil. 
The  tall  forest's  shade,  the  soft  meadow  grass,  cannot 
quicken  that  failing  heart ;—  no,  nor  the  river  that  tum- 
bles down  the  stones,  purer  than  amber,  and  hurries  to 
the  plain  :  the  flank  is  relaxed  from  end  to  end  ;  a  stu- 
por weighs  the  heavy  eyelids  down,  and  the  weight  of 
the  neck  bears  it  drooping  to  the  earth.  What  profit 
has  he  of  his  labor  and  his  good  deeds  to  man?  what 
of  all  the  heav}^  clods  that  he  has  upturned  with  the 
share  ?  Yet  he  and  such  as  he  have  never  known  the 
7 


98  THE  GEORGICS. 

poison  of  the  wine-god's  Massic  gifts,  nor  of  feast  suc- 
ceeding feast ;  they  feed  on  leaves,  on  the  diet  of  un- 
dressed herbage.  Their  cups  are  clear  springs  and 
rivers  that  freshen  as  they  run  ;  and  care  never  comes 
to  break  short  their  healthful  slumbers.  Then  and 
then  only  in  that  country  —  * 


BOOK  IV. 

I  AM  now  in  due  order  to  tell  of  Heaven's  gift,  the 
honey  of  the  sky.  To  this,  as  to  the  rest  of  my  task, 
Maecenas,  vouchsafe  your  regard.  A  marvelous  exhi- 
bition of  things  shght  in  themselves  —  high-souled 
leaders,  and  the  life  of  a  whole  nation,  its  character, 
its  genius,  its  races,  its  battles,  shall  all  be  successive- 
ly unfolded  to  you.  It  is  a  small  field  for  labor,  but 
far  from  small  is  the  glor}'  to  be  reaped  by  one,  if  there 
be  such,  whose  evil  star  leaves  him  free,  and  whose 
invoking  voice  is  heard  of  Apollo. 

First  of  all,  the  bees  must  have  a  settlement  and  a 
station  found  them,  in  a  spot  to  which  the  winds  have 
no  access  —  for  the  winds  will  not  let  them  carry  their 
food  home  —  and  where  no  sheep  or  wanton  kids  are 
likely  to  trample  on  the  flowers,  no  wandering  heifer  to 
brush  the  dew  from  the  meadow  and  beat  down  the 
rising  herbage.  Nor  let  the  speckled  lizard's  scaly 
back  be  seen  in  their  precious  homesteads,  nor  the 
apiaster  nor  other  birds ;   no,    nor  Procne,  with  the 

*  Here  the  MS.  of  this  part  of  the  translation  ceases  abruptly. 
I  cannot  find  that  the  third  Georgic  was  ever  completed  by  Pro- 
fessor Conington.  —  Ed. 


BOOK  IV.  99 

marks  of  her  bloody  hands  still  on  her  breast  —  for 
the}^  spread  havoc  through  the  domain  far  and  wide, 
and  catching  its  owners  on  the  wing,  carry  them  in 
their  mouths  to  their  ungentle  nestlings  a  delicate 
morsel.  But  let  there  be  a  clear  spring  close  at  hand, 
and  a  pool  fringed  with  green  moss,  and  a  thread  of 
water  coursing  through  the  grass,  and  let  a  palm-tree 
or  a  tall  wild  olive  throw  its  shade  over  the  vestibule, 
that,  when  the  infant  swarm  marches  out  under  their 
new  kings  in  the  spring  that  they  love,  and  the  3'outh 
issuing  from  the  comb  disport  themselves  at  will,  there 
may  be  a  bank  hard  by,  to  tempt  them  to  retire  from 
the  heat,  and  a  tree  in  the  way  to  keep  them  long  under 
its  leafy  shelter.  Into  the  middle  of  the  water,  whether 
it  be  sluggish  and  standing,  or  fresh  and  running, 
throw  willows  crosswise  and  huge  stones,  that  there 
may  be  frequent  bridges  for  them  to  settle  on  and 
spread  their  wings  to  the  summer  sun,  in  case  the  east 
wind  should  have  sprinkled  them  while  pausing  in  their 
flight,  or  sent  them  headlong  into  Neptune's  lap.  All 
about  let  there  be  a  luxuriant  growth  of  green  cassia, 
and  wild  thyme  with  its  spreading  perfume,  and  abun- 
dance of  stronglj'-scented  savorj^,  and  beds  of  violets 
to  drink  in  the  irrigation  of  the  spring.  As  for  your 
hives,  whether  they  be  stitched,  of  hollow  cork,  or 
woven,  of  pliant  osier,  let  them  have  narrow  entrances 
—  for  in  cold  the  wintr3'  air  congeals  the  honey,  while 
heat  melts  it  and  sets  it  free.  Each  is  a  t3'rant  that 
the  bees  have  alike  to  dread  ;  nor  is  it  in  vain  that  with 
emulous  zeal  the}'  smear  the  tiny  crevices  in  their  dwell- 
ings with  wax,  and  fill  up  the  orifices  with  the  pollen 
of  flowers,  and  keep  a  store  of  glue  laid  up  for  that 
ver}'  purpose,  more  tenacious  than  birdlime  or  than  the 
pitch  of  Phrygian   Ida.      Often,  too,  in  holes  under- 


100  THE  GEORGICS, 

ground,  if  fame  speak  truth,  they  have  made  them  a 
warm  home,  and  have  been  found  deep  in  the  hollow  of 
a  porous  rock,  and  in  the  cavern  of  a  decayed  tree. 
Nevertheless  do  you  give  their  crannied  chambers  the 
warmth  of  a  smooth  mud  plaister,  and  strew  them  with 
a  sprinkling  of  leaves.  Do  not  suffer  a  yew-tree  near 
their  dwelling,  nor  roast  scarlet  crabs  at  the  fire,  nor 
put  any  faith  in  a  deep  swamp}^  place,  or  where  the 
mire  smells  strong,  or  where  the  hollow  rock  rings  with 
the  impact  of  sound,  and  the  reflection  of  the  voice 
strikes  it  and  rebounds  again. 

For  the  rest,  when  the  golden  sun  has  driven  winter  td 
hide  his  vanquished  head  under  the  earth,  and  thrown 
open  the  gates  of  heaven  by  the  force  of  summer's 
rajs,  immediately  they  are  ranging  lawn  and  woodland 
through,  cropping  the  bright-hued  flowers,  and  sipping 
the  streamlet's  brim  with  their  tiny  mouths.  Hence  it 
is  that  with  a  delicious  sense  of  unknown  sweetness 
they  cherish  tlieir  nestling  young  ;  hence  it  is  that  with 
workman's  skill  they  forge  fresh  wax  and  mold  the 
clammy  hone3\  So  then  when  looking  up  you  see  the 
body  of  bees  issuing  at  last  from  their  prison  towards 
the  sk}'  and  all  afloat  in  the  clear  summer-tide,  and 
wonder  at  the  murk^^  cloud  which  the  wind  is  swaying 
to  and  fro,  mark  tliem  well ;  they  always  make  for 
fresh  water  and  sheltering  foliage.  There  then  sprinkle 
the  odors  I  prescribe,  bruised  balm,  and  the  wax-flower, 
mean  weed  though  it  be,  and  raise  a  tinkling  noise,  and 
beat  the  cj^mbals  of  the  mighty  mother  all  around  :  un- 
bidden they  will  settle  on  the  medicated  spot,  unbid- 
den they  will 'nestle,  as  is  their  wont,  in  the  furthest 
corners  of  their  new  cradle. 

But  if  it  is  for  battle  that  they  have  left  the  hive — 
for  oft  when  there  are  two  kings   strife   visits    them 


BOOK  IV,  101 

with  her  dire  convulsions,  ^nd  at  once  you  may  learn 
even  from  a  distance  the  temper  of  the  masses,  and 
hear  their  very  hearts  beating  for  war,  for  there  is  that 
hoarse  brazen  music  that  the  war-goa  loves  stirring  up 
the  loiterers,  and  a  note  is  heard  imitating  the  trum- 
pet's short  broken'  blasts ;  then  in  eager  alarm  they 
flock  together,  and  flash  their  wings,  and  sharpen  their 
beaks,  and  string  their  arms,  and  throng  and  swarm 
round  their  king  and  about  the  ver}^  door  of  the  royal 
tent,  and  with  loud  cries  bid  the  foe  come  on.  So 
when  then  thej'  have  got  a  clear  spring  da}^,  and  the 
field  is  open  before  them,  forth  the}^  rush  for  the  gates  ; 
the  battle  joins  high  in  air ;  the  din  mounts  up ;  they 
are  mingled  and  massed  into  a  mighty  ball,  and  come 
tumbling  down.  Never  hail  fell  thicker  through  the 
air,  never  did  shaken  oak  rain  such  a  shower  of  acorns. 
The  monarchs  themselves  move  through  the  ranks,  dis- 
tinguished by  their  wings,  their  giant  souls  ranging 
through  their  pigm}'  bosoms,  firm-set  never  to  give  way 
till  the  conqueror's  heavy  hand  has  forced  one  or  other 
of  the  hosts  to  turn  its  back  in  flight.  These  storms 
of  passion,  this  conflict  of  giants,  the  sprinkling  of  a 
little  dust  controls  and  la3'S  to  rest. 

But  when  you  have  succeeded  in  recalling  the  two 
generals  from  the  field,  take  him  who  looks  the  worse, 
and  save  the  hive  from  the  harmful  excess  b}'  doing 
him  to  death ;  let  the  better  reign  in  solitary  state. 
One  you  will  find  emblazed  with  stiffening  drops  of 
gold  —  for  there  are  two  roj-al  races,  the  better  of  dis- 
tinguished mien,  brilliant  with  red  flashing  scales  ;  the 
other  sunk  in  squalor  and  inaction,  and  dragging  with 
him  the  ignoble  weight  of  a  huge  belly.  As  the  royal 
features  are  of  two  kinds,  so  are  the  bodies  of  the  com- 
monalty ;  for  one  sort  are  loathly  and  squalid,  like  the 


l62  777^  GEORGICS. 

traveler  when  he  emerges  from  his  bath  of  dust,  and 
spits  the  clay  from  his  dr3"  throat,  parched  and  thirsty ; 
the  others  shine  out  and*  flash  resplendently,  blazing  in 
gold,  and  with  regular  spots  flecking  their  bodies. 
This  is  the  worthier  progeny ;  this,  in  the  skj^'s  due 
season,  will  give  you  sweet  hone}'  to  strain,  and  not 
onl}'  sweet,  but  clear,  and  of  power  to  subdue  the  wine- 
god's  harsher  flavor. 

But  when  the  swarms  fly  aimlessly  about  and  disport 
them  in  the  sk} ,  scorning  their  cells,  and  leaving  their 
homes  to  chill,  3'ou  must  restrain  their  fickle  spirits 
from  such  empty  trifling.  Nor  is  restraint  a  hard  task 
—  do  3'ou  deprive  the  monarchs  of  their  wings  :  when 
they  hang  back,  no  subject  will  venture  to  encounter 
the  upward  journe}',  or  pluck  up  the  standard  from  the 
encampment.  Let  there  be  a  garden  to  tempt  them 
with  the  fragrance  of  its  saffron  flowers,  and  the  guar- 
dianship of  Priapus,  god  of  the  Hellespont,  standing 
sentinel  against  thieves  and  birds  with  scythe  of  willow, 
to  keep  them  safe.  Let  him,  and  none  other,  carry 
th3me  and  pine-trees  down  from  the  mountain-tops, 
and  set  them  all  about  the  hive,  whose  charge  such 
things  are ;  let  him,  and  none  other,  make  the  hand 
sore  with  hard  toil ;  let  him,  and  none  other,  put  into 
the  ground  plants  that  will  bear,  and  sprinkle  the 
friendly'  shower. 

A3'e,  and  for  myself — were  I  not  now  at  the  very 
end  of  my  enterprise,  furling  my  sails,  and  hastening 
to  bring  m}'  prow  to  land,  it  ma^^  be  that  I  should 
extend  viv^^  song  to  the  luxuriant  garden.  What  care 
of  husbandry'  decks  it  with  flowers,  and  the  rosaries  of 
twice-bearing  Psestum ;  and  what  is  the  }oy  that  the 
endive  feels  in  the  stream  which  it  drinks,  and  the 
green  banks  in  the  parsley  that  fringes  them,  and  how 


BOOK  IV,  103 

the  cucumber  winds  along  the  grass  and  swells  into  a 
bell}' ;  nor  had  I  passed  in  silence  the  late-flowering 
narcissus,  or  the  acanthus'  bending  stem,  or  the  pale 
3'ellow  ivy,  or  the  myrtle  that  loves  the  coast.  For  I 
remember  how  once,  under  the  shadow  of  CEbalia's 
lofty  towers,  where  dark  Galsesus  bathes  the  3'ellow 
fields,  I  saw  an  old  man  of  Corj'cus,  who  had  a  few 
acres  of  unappropriated  land,  soil  with  no  productive- 
ness for  bullocks,  no  fitness  for  cattle,  no  friendliness 
for  the  wine-god.  Yet  he,  while  planting  pot-herbs 
thinlj'  among  the  boskage,  and  round  them  white  liUes, 
and  vervain,  and  scant  poppies,  had  a  heart  that  matched 
the  wealth  of  kings  ;  and  often  as  he  came  home  at  night, 
he  would  pile  his  table  high  with  unbought  viands. 
None  so  early  as  he  to  pluck  the  rose  in  spring,  the 
apple  in  autumn  ;  and  when  winter  in  its  bitterest  mood 
was  still  splitting  the  very  rocks  with  the  frost,  and 
bridling  with  ice  the  rush  of  the  water,  there  was  he, 
already  gathering  the  hj-acinth's  delicate  flower,  with 
man}'  a  gibe  at  that  late  summer  and  those  loitering 
zephyrs.  Thus  he  was  the  first  to  swarm  with  mother- 
bees  and  their  plenteous  young,  and  to  collect  the  honey 
as  it  frothed  out  from  the  squeezed  comb ;  for  he  had 
limes  and  pines  in  luxuriant  plent}^ ;  and  all  the  fruit 
with  which  each  prolific  tree  had  clad  itself  in  its  early 
bloom,  it  retained  undiminished  in  the  ripeness  of 
autumn.  He,  too,  had  been  known  to  plant  out  in 
rows  elms,  well  on  in  life,  and  pears  grown  hard  as 
iron,  and  thorns  which  had  begun  to  bear  plums,  and 
plane-trees,  already  tendering  to  drinkers  the  service 
of  their  shade.  All  this,  however,  I  must  pass  by  for 
myself,  precluded  as  I  am  by  my  ungracious  limits,  and 
leave  to  others  to  record  when  my  work  is  over. 

Now  listen,  and  I  will  tell  of  the  nature  which  al- 


104  THE    GEORGICS, 

mighty  Jove  of  his  own  act  conferred  on  the  bees,  the 
wages  for  wliich  they  went  after  the  musical  sounds  of 
the  Curetes  and  the  tinkling  of  the  brass,  and  fed  the 
king  of  Heaven  under  the  cave  of  Dicte.  They  alone 
have  their  children  in  common,  their  dwellings  associated 
into  a  cit}' ;  thej^  alone  lead  a  life  of  submission  to  the 
majesty  of  law  ;  the}^  alone  know  the  claims  of  country 
and  the  permanence  of  home,  think  of  winter  before  it 
comes,  tr}'  in  summer  what  toil  can  do,  and  lay  up  in 
store  what  each  has  earned  for  the  public.  For  some 
with  sleepless  care  watch  over  the  general  sustenance, 
and  go  out  by  a  set  rule  to  labor  abroad  ;  some  within 
the  walls  of  their  homes  lay  down  the  narcissus*  tear 
and  the  clammy  gum  from  the  bark  of  trees  as  the  first 
foundation  of  the  comb,  and  then  hang  in  air  the  roof 
of  clinging  wax  ;  others  lead  out  the  nation's  hope,  the 
young  now  grown ;  others  again  mass  together  honey 
of  the  purest  water,  and  strain  the  cells  to  bursting  with 
its  clear  nectarous  sweets  ;  some  there  are  on  whom  the 
sentry's  work  of  the  gates  devolves  by  lot,  and  who 
take  their  turn  in  looking  out  for  showers  and  gathering 
clouds,  or  relieve  those  who  are  coming  in  of  their  bur- 
dens, or  collect  a  troop  and  expel  from  their  stalls  the 
drones — that  laz}',  thriftless  herd.  The  work  is  all 
lire,  and  a  scent  of  thyme  breathes  from  the  fragrant 
honej^  Even  as  when  the  C3'clopes  to  meet  a  sudden 
call  are  forging  thunderbolts  from  the  reluctant  ore  — 
some  with  their  leathern  bellows  are  taking  in  and  giv- 
ing out  the  wind,  others  are  dipping  the  hissing  copper 
ill  the  lake,  while  ^tna  groans  under  the  anvil's  weight ; 
the}",  one  with  another,  with  all  a  giant's  strength,  are 
lifting  their  arms  in  measured  cadence,  and  turning  with 
their  griping  tongs  the  iron  here  and  there  —  so,  if  it  be 
right  to  compare  small  things  with  great,  the  bees  of 


BOOK  IV.  105 

Cecrops*  clime  are  stimulated  to  labor  by  an  inborn  love 
of  acquiring,  each  in  his  own  function.  The  old  have 
charge  of  the  town,  of  rearing  walls  of  comb,  and  build- 
ing dwellings  of  cunning  frame  ;  the  younger  sort  drag 
themselves  home  late  at  night,  tired,  with  their  thighs 
laden  with  thyme  ;  the}"  feed  dispersedly  on  arbutes  and 
gray  willow  leaves,  and  cassia  and  crocus  glowing  red, 
and  luxuriant  limes,  and  purple  hyacinths.  All  have 
one  time  for  rest  from  their  work,  all  have  one  time  for 
labor :  at  daybreak  they  pour  from  the  gates  —  no 
delaying  ;  again,  when  the  star  of  eve  has  warned  them 
to  quit  their  pasture  at  last,  and  withdraw  from  the 
plains,  at  once  the}*  seek  their  homes,  at  once  they  be- 
think them  of  refreshment ;  a  noise  is  heard  —  they 
hum  about  the  entrance  and  on  the  threshold.  After- 
wards, when  they  have  settled  into  their  beds,  there  is 
silence  for  the  night,  and  their  weary  limbs  are  lapped 
in  the  sleep  that  they  love.  Again,  they  do  not  go  far 
awa}^  from  their  stalls  when  there  is  rain  overhead,  or 
put  faith  in  the  sky  while  east  winds  are  on  the  wing, 
but  about  the  hive,  under  the  shelter  of  the  city's  wall, 
the}'  fetch  in  water,  and  tr}^  short  excursions,  and  often 
take  up  pebbles,  as  the  tossing  wave  makes  unsteady 
boats  take  up  ballast,  and  wuth  these  balance  them- 
selves as  the}'  move  through  the  unsubstantial  clouds. 
There  is  another  custom  which  you  will  wonder  should 
have  found  favor  with  the  bees,  that  they  do  not  give 
way  to  sexual  intercourse,  but  unaided  pick  up  their 
young  in  their  mouths  from  leaves  and  grateful  herbage  ; 
unaided  they  supply  their  Rome  with  a  new  monarch 
and  tiny  citizens,  and  so  remodel  the  palace  and  the 
whole  waxen  realm.  Often,  too,  while  straying  among 
rugged  rocks,  they  have  been  known  to  crush  their 
wings  and  yield  their  patriot  lives  under  their  load  — 


106  THE   GEORGICS. 

so  intense  is  their  love  of  flowers,  so  paramount  the 
pride  of  gendering  honey.  Hence  it  is,  that  though 
each  single  bee  is  born  to  a  narrow  span  of  life  —  for 
their  summers  never  stretch  beyond  the  seventh  —  the 
famil}'  abides  undying,  and  for  many,  many  years,  the 
star  of  the  house  dela3^s  to  go  down,  and  fathers'  fathers 
of  fathers'  fathers  are  counted  on  the  roll. 

Moreover,  ro^altj-  never  receives'such  homage  from 
Egypt,  or  from  mighty  Lydia,  from  the  nations  of 
Parthia,  or  from  Median  Hydaspes.  While  the  king  is 
safe,  all  are  of  one  mind  ;  when  he  perishes,  the  bond 
is  broken  ;  the}'  themselves  plunder  the  honey  that  they 
stored  with  such  skill,  and  tear  in  pieces  the  comb's 
cunning  wickerwork.  He  is  the  master  of  the  works  ; 
to  him  they  look  up  ;  the  whole  nation  surrounds  him, 
thronging  and  humming,  and  swarms  as  a  guard  about 
his  person  ;  and  often  they  lift  him  on  their  shoulders, 
and  shield  him  with  their  bodies  from  the  shock  of 
battle,  and  in  the  shower  of  wounds  seek  a  glorious 
death. 

From  these  tokens,  and  with  these  instances  to  guide 
them,  some  have  said  that  bees  have  received  a  share 
of  the  divine  intelligence,  a  draught  of  the  pure  ethereal 
stream  :  the  Deity,  they  tell  us,  pervades  all,  earth  and 
the  expanse  of  sea,  and  the  deep  vault  of  heaven  ;  from 
Him  flocks,  herds,  men,  wild  beasts  of  every  sort,  each 
creature  at  its  birth  draws  the  bright  thread  of  life ; 
further,  to  Him  all  things  return,  are  restored  and  re- 
duced —  death  has  no  place  among  them  ;  but  they  fly 
up  alive  into  the  ranks  of  the  stars,  and  take  their  seats 
aloft  in  the  sky. 

If  ever  you  would  break  the  seal  of  their  narrow 
dwelling,  and  of  the  treasury  where  their  honey  is 
stored,  first  cleanse  your  mouth  with  a  sprinkling  draught 


BOOK  IV.  107 

of  water,  and  arm  3'oiir  hand  with  the  searching  power 
of  smoke.  Twice  they  gather  in  their  teeming  produce, 
twice  a  3'ear  comes  their  harvest  —  once  when  Taygete,  ^ 
the  Pleiad,  displays  to  the  earth  her  graceful  head,  and 
spurns  the  ocean  stream  with  her  scornful  foot ;  and 
again  when,  flying  from  the  sign  of  the  watery  Fish, 
she  makes  her  sad  descent  from  heaven  into  the  wintry 
wave.  Their  fury,  too,  is  all  in  excess  :  hurt  them,  and 
they  shoot  poison  into  the  bite  the}^  give,  fasten  on  a 
vein,  and  leave  in  it  their  unseen  stings,  and  thus  bury 
their  own  lives  in  the  wound. 

But  if  you  fear  for  them  the  tyranny  of  winter,  and 
so  would  deal  gently  with  their  future,  pitying  the 
thought  of  a  nation's  spirit  crushed  and  a  common 
weal  ruined,  yet  to  fumigate  the  hive  with  th3'me,  and 
to  cut  away  the  empty  cells  of  wax,  who  would  shrink 
from  that?  for  often  has  the  comb  been  gnawed  away^  ^       , 

unknown  .by  the  *eft  and  by  the  cradled  3'oung  of  the  ^  ^ 
hght-hating  beetle ;  and  the  drone,  who  sits  down,  an 
unworking  citizen,  to  another's  food ;  or  the  fierce 
hornet  has  dashed  among  their  unequal  forces ;  or 
moths,  a  terrible  race ;  or  Minerva's  foe,  the  spider, 
has  hung  her  loose-threaded  nets  across  their  doorway. 
The  greater  the  drain  on  them  has  been,  the  greater  the 
zeal  with  which  all  will  exert  themselves  to  repair  the 
wreck  of  the  fallen  house,  filling  up  the  rows  of  their 
cells,  and  planking  their  granaries  with  the  spoils  of  the 
flowers. 

But  if,  seeing  that  bees,  like  men,  must  meet  the 
chances  of  life,  their  frames  should  be  unstrung  by 
grievous  sickness  —  a  thing  which  you  will  be  able  to 
tell  at  once  by  signs  of  no  doubtful  meaning  —  as  they 
sicken  their  color  at  once  changes,  a  squalid  leanness 
disfigures  their  features  ;  soon  they  carry  out  from  their  . 


lOa  THE   GEORGICS. 

homes  the  corpses  of  those  who  have  lost  life's  light, 
and  lead  the  melancholy  procession  to  the  grave  ;  either 
they  hang  about  the  door  with  their  feet  linked  to- 
gether, or  keep  lingering  within  in  their  closed  dwelling, 
one  and  all  languid  with  hunger  and  torpid  with  pinch- 
ing cold.  Then  a  hoarse  noise  strikes  the  ear,  and  they 
hum  droningly  and  long,  like  the  sigh  of  the  bleak 
south  through  the  forest,  like  the  crash  of  the  troubled 
sea  as  its  waves  retire  from  the  beach,  like  the  roar  of 
the  surging  blaze  in  the  closed  furnace.  Now,  aye  and 
before  now,  I  would  counsel  you  to  burn  the  scent  of 
galbanum,  and  to  convey  honey  through  pipes  of  reed, 

/  anticipating  them  with  your  encouragement,  and  invit- 
ing the  poor  tired  creatures  to  the  food  they  know  and 
love.  It  will  be  well  too  to  mix  with  the  honey  the 
flavor  of  pounded  galls,  and  dried  rose-leaves,  or  wine 
thickened  to  s}  rup  over  a  hot  fire,  or  the  juice  of  the 
raisin-cluster  from  the  Psithian  vine,  and  the  thyme  of 
Cecrops'  land,  and  the  pungent-smelling  centaury.  A 
flower,  too,  there  grows  in  the  meadows,  to  which  the 
countrymen  have  attached  the  name  of  amellus,  a  plant 
which  gives  little  trouble  to  those  who  seek  it,  for  it 
shoots  up  a  great  vegetation  from  the  one  spot  of  turf 
where  it  springs  :  itself  of  golden  hue,  but  in  the  leaves 
which  cluster  round  that  golden  center  there  are  gleams 
of  purple  under  a  dark  violet  tint ;  many  a  time  have 
the  altars  of  the  gods  been  decked  with  its  twined  fes- 
toons ;  it  leaves  a  bitter  taste  in  the  mouth :  among  the 
nibbled  herbage  of  the  valley,  the  shepherds  gather  it, 
near  the  winding  stream  of  Mella.  Take  it  and  boil  its 
roots  in  the  wine-god's  generous  perfume,  and  place  it 
for  their  food  in  the  doorwa}'  in  piled  baskets. 

^      But  should  there  be  an^-  whose  whole  stock  has  failed 
\  him  suddenly,  and  left  no  means  of  calling  back  the 


BOOK  IV.  109 

line  to  life  in  a  new  race,  it  is  time  that  I  should  also  dis- 
close the  memorable  discovery  of  the  great  Arcadian 
keeper,  and  the  way  in  which,  oft  ere  now,  from  the 
slaughter  of  bullocks,  tainted  gore  has  generated  bees. 
I  will  expound  the  whole  legend,  mounting  up  to  the 
source,  and  tracing  it  thence.  For  where  the  favored 
race  of  Macedon's  Canopus  dwell  by  the  stagnant  Nile 
and  its  overflowing  waters,  and  travel  in  painted  boats 
about  the  lands  the}"  till,  where  quivered  Persia's  con- 
tiguity presses  hard  on  the  frontier,  and  the  rapid  river 
parts  into  seven  separate  mouths,  and  with  its  black 
slime  fertilizes  the  green  land  of  Egypt  —  the  river  that 
has  come  down  all  the  wa}^  from  among  the  sun-baked 
Indians  —  th^t  entire  clime  rests  the  weal  of  its  hives 
with  confidence  on  this  device. 

In  the  first  place,  a  spot  small  and  confined  for  the 
very  purpose  is  chosen  out ;  this  the}"  close  in  with  nar- 
row roof-tiling,  and  straitened  walls,  and  insert  four 
windows,  with  slanting  light  from  the  four  quarters  of 
heaven.  Next  the}"  look  out  for  a  bull-calf,  whose  horns 
have  begun  to  arch  over  a  brow  that  has  seen  two  sum- 
mers ;  they  take  him  and  seal  up  his  two  nostrils  and 
his  mouth's  breath,  spite  of  furious  struggles  ;  and  after 
he  has  been  slain  by  their  blows,  his  flesh  through  his 
unbroken  hide  is  beaten  to  a  jell}".  As  he  lies,  they 
leave  him  in  his  barred  prison,  placing  under  his  ribs 
broken  bits  of  bough,  and  thyme,  and  fresh-plucked 
cassia.  This  goes  on  when  the  west  winds  first  play 
upon  the  waters,  ere  the  meadows  are  empurpled  with 
fresh  spring-tide  hues,  ere  the  chattering  swallow  hangs 
her  nest  from  the  rafters.  Meanwhile,  in  his  softened 
bones  the  sap  has  been  heated  and  begins  to  ferment, 
and  living  things  of  strange  manner  to  look  upon,  at 
first  with  no  feet  to  crawl  on,  but  soon  even  with  wings 


110  THE  GEORGICS. 

to  buzz  and  fly  with,  swarm  confusedly,  and  skim  the 
empty  air  more  and  more,  till,  like  a  burst  of  rain  from 
a  summer  cloud,  out  they  break,  or  like  arrows  from 
the  rebounding  cord,  whenever  the  light-armed  Parthian 
strikes  up  the  prelude  of  the  battle. 

Who  of  the  gods,  ye  muses,  who,  beat  out  for  us  men 
this  skilled  device?  Whence  did  this  fresh  growth  of 
men's  experience  take  its  rise? 

""  It  was  the  shepherd,  Aristaeus,  turning  his  back  on 
Tempe  and  her  Peneus,  when  his  bees  were  all  dead  — 
so  runs  the  tale  —  of  disease  and  famine,  that  stood  in 
sorrow  at  the  sacred  head  where  the  river  rises,  with 
many  a  plaint,  and  in  words  like  these  bespoke  her  that 
bore  him  :  '  Mothei*  Cyrene,  mother,  whose  dwelling  is 
at  the  bottom  of  this  gulf,  why  didst  thou  bear  me,  a 
son  of  an  illustrious  line  of  gods  —  if  at  least  he  of 
whom  thou  tellest  me  is  my  father,  Thymbra's  Apollo 
—  to  a  life  under  an  evil  star  ?  Whither  has  thy  love 
for  me  and  mine  been  banished  ?  Wherefore  didst  thou 
bid  me  look  forward  to  the  sky?  See  now,  even  this 
very  crown  of  m}'  poor  mortality,  which  a  life  of  skill- 
ful watching  over  corn  and  cattle  had  barel}^  won  for 
me,  every  effort  tried,  I  must  resign  —  and  thou  art  my 
mother  still!  Why  then,  come  on — put  thine  own 
hand  to  the  work,  uproot  m}"  fruitful  forests,  bring  into 
m}-  stalls  the  fire  they  hate,  kill  my  crops,  burn  my 
young  plants,  and  wield  against  my  vines  the  heaviest 
ax  thou  canst  find,  if  the  access  of  th}'  disgust  at  hear- 
ing me  praised  be  indeed  so  strong.' 

But  his  mother  caught  the  sound  as  she  sat  in  the 
bed-chamber  of  the  •  deep  stream.  Around  her  the 
nymphs  were  spinning  wool  of  Miletus,  ingrained  with 
hyaline's  saturating  dye,  Drymo,  and  Xantho,  and 
Ligeia,  and  Phyllodoce,  their  bright  locks  floating  over 


BOOK  IV.  Ill 

their  snowy  necks,  and  Cydippe,  and  yellow-haired 
Lycorias  —  a  maiden  one,  the  other  having  just  proved 
the  first  pangs  of  the  goddess  of  travail  —  and  Clio, 
and  Beroe,  her  sister,  children  of  Ocean  both,  both  girt 
with  gold,  both  with  dresses  of  dappled  hide,  and 
Ephyre,  and  Opis,  and  Asian  Deiopeia,  and  Arethusa 
fleet  of  foot,  her  huntress*  shafts  at  last  laid  by ;  among 
them  Clymene  was  telling  the  tale  of  Vulcan's  vain  jeal- 
ousy, of  Mars'  stratagem  and  the  joy  he  stole,  and  from 
chaos  downwards  was  counting  the  crowded  muster-roll 
of  the  loves  of  the  gods.  As  they  sit  entranced  by  the 
song,  and  the  spindle  carries  down  their  fleecy  tasks, 
yet  again  there  smote  on  the  mother's  ear  the  wail  of 
Aristseus,  and  all  were  confounded  on  their  crystal 
seats  ;  but  Arethusa,  anticipating  the  rest  of  the  sister- 
hood, looked  forth,  and  raised  her  j^ellow  head  from  the 
water's  surface,  and  cried  from  the  distance  —  '  O  thou 
whom  a  groan  so  loud  has  not  scared  for  naught,  sister 
C3Tene,  it  is  himself,  thy  chiefest  care,  Aristseus,  that 
stands  at  the  wave  of  our  father  Peneus  weeping  to  '>^^C> 
thee,  and  calling  on  thy  cruel  name.'  Struck  to  the 
soul  with  a  strange  terror,  '  Go,  bring  him,  bring  him 
to  us ;  he  may  touch  the  floor  that  gods  tread,'  cries 
the  mother.  With  that  she  bids  the  deep  stream  retire 
far  and  wide,  making  a  path  on  which  the  3-outh  might 
walk.  Round  him  closed  the  wave  arched  into  moun- 
tain form,  took  him  into  its  giant  bosom,  and  sped  him 
down  under  the  river.  And  now  he  is  on  his  way 
marveling  at  his  mother's  palace  and  the  whole  watery 
realm,  pools  locked  by  caves  and  forests  echoing  wide,  * 
and,  all  confounded  b^^  the  might}'  rush  of  the  waters, 
is  gazing  on  all  the  rivers  of  earth  as  they  flow  under 
its  vast  surface  each  in  its  several  bed  —  Phasis,  and 
Lycus,  and  the  source  whence  first  breaks  forth  the 


.0\^' 


112  THE  GEORGICS. 

deep  Enipeus,  whence  Tiber,  the  Roman's  father,  and 
whence  the  streams  of  Anio,  and  rocky  roaring  Hypa- 
nis,  and  Mysian  Caicus,  and  he  that  bears  two  gilded 
horns  on  his  bull's  brow,  Eridanus,  than  whom  no  river 
pours  himself  more  forcefully  through  his  rich  cultured 
plains  into  the  blue  flushing  deep.  After  he  had  come 
under  the  chamber's  stone-hung  roof,  and  Cyrene  had 
taken  knowledge  of  her  son's  bootless  weeping,  the 
sisterhood,  each  in  her  course,  offer  him  clear  spring- 
water  for  his  hands,  and  present  towels  with  the  nap 
dul}^  shorn,  while  others  load  the  table  with  viands, 
and  set  on  cups  brimming  again  and  again :  the  altars 
mount  up  with  Panchaian  fires  ;  and  'Take,'  says  the 
mother,  '  the  bowl  of  Mseonia's  wine-god ;  make  we 
libation  to  Ocean.'  So  speaking,  she  offers  herself  a 
prayer  to  Ocean,  father  of  creation,  and  the  sisterhood 
of  nymphs,  the  hundred  guardians  of  the  woods,  the 
hundred  of  the  rivers.  Thrice  with  the  clear  nectar 
she  sprinkled  the  blazing  fire-queen ;  thrice  the  flame 
shot  up  to  the  roof-top  and  shone  again.  Cheering  his 
heart  with  the  omen,  she  thus  begins  her  speech :  — 

'  In  the  sea-god's  Carpathian  gulf  there  lives  a  seer, 
Proteus,  of  the  sea's  own  hue,  who  takes  the  measure  of 
the  mighty  deep  with  his  fishes,  even  with  his  harnessed 
car  of  two-legged  steeds.  He  is  at  this  moment  visit- 
ing again  the  havens  of  Emathia  and  Pallene,  the  coun- 
^^  try  of  his  birth.  To  him  we  nymphs  all  do  reverence, 
aye,  and  Nereus  too,  the  old  and  gray ;  for  all  things 
are  known  to  the  seer,  those  which  are,  those  which 
.  have  been,  those  which  drag  their  length  through  the 
advancing  future.  So  it  seemed  good  to  Neptune, 
whose  monstrous  herds  of  loathly  sea-calves  he  pastures 
under  the  deep.  Him,  my  son,  you  must  first  make 
prisoner  and  bind,  that  he  may  unfold  all  the  history 


BOOK  IV.  118 

of  the  disease  and  prosper  the  issue.  For  without 
force  he  will  give  no  counsel,  nor  will  your  praying 
bend  him ;  force,  stern  force,  and  fetters  must  be  put 
upon  the  captive  ;  against  them  his  baffled  wiles  will  at 
last  be  broken. ^/^^myself,  when  the  sun  has  kindled  O^v^ 
his  mid-da}^  furnace,  when  the  herbage  is  athirst,  and 
cattle  begin  to  feel  the  joy  of  the  shade,  will  lead  jog, 
into  the  old  one's  privacy,  the  place  where  he  retires 
from  his  labors  in  the  water,  that  you  may  easily  fall 
on  him  as  he  lies  asleep.  But  when  you  have  caught 
him  in  the  grasp  of  hand  and  fetter,  then  the  divers 
forms  and  features  of  wild  beasts  will  be  put  on  to 
mock  you.  He  will  change  suddenly  to  a  bristly  boar, 
and  a.  grim  black  tiger,  a  scaly  dragon,  and  a  lioness 
with  tawny  mane ;  or  he  will  send  forth  the  sharp 
crackling  of  flame,  and  thus  slip  out  of  your  bonds,  or 
will  trickle  away  into  unsubstantial  water  and  be  gone. 
But  the  more  you  find  him  turn  himself  into  shape 
after  shape,  the  tighter,  my  son,  strain  the  gripe  of 
your  bonds,  till,  his  last  change  over,  he  appear  in  the  ^ 

form  in  which  3^ou  saw  him  when  sleep  had  set  in  and 
his  ej^es  were  curtained.' 

So  saying,  she  bids  ambrosia  send  forth  its  liquid 
perfume,  which  she  spread  over  her  son's  whole  frame ; 
at  once  he  felt  his  new- trimmed  locks  exhale  a  breath 
of  fragrance,  and  a  supple  vigor  pass  into  his  limbs. 
There  is  a  vast  cave  eaten  out  in  a  mountain's  side, 
whereinto  wave  upon  wave  is  driven  by  the  wind,  and 
breaks  in  the  retreating  inlet  —  to  the  mariner,  when  (j  Vwa' 
the  storm  is  upon  him,  at  times  a  roadstead  of  safest  ^^  Ct>*^ 
shelter.  There,  far  within,  Proteus  screens  himself 
with  the  barrier  of  an  enormous  rock.  Here  the  nymph 
places  the  youth  in  hiding,  away  from  the  light ;  she 
herself  stands  off  in  the  dusk  of  a  mist  she  raises.  Al- 
8 


114  THE  GEORGICS. 

ready  Sirius  was  all  ablaze  in  the  sky,  with  that  fierce 
glow  that  scorches  the  Indians  with  thirst,  and  the 
sun's  fiery  car  had  exhausted  the  half  of  its  circuit ;  the 
herbage  was  parching,  and  the  hollow  rivers,  their  dry 
jaws  agape,  were  being  baked  by  the  sunbeams  into  a 
heated  mass  of  mud,  when  Proteus  was  on  his  way 
from  the  surge,  making  for  the  accustomed  cave; 
around  him  the  moist  generation  of  the  broad  sea, 
leaping  gamesomely,  flung  about  the  salt  spra3\  They 
lay  themselves  to  sleep,  the  sea-calves  here  and  there 
along  the  beach  ;  he,  like  the  warder  of  a  fold  one  daj^ 
among  the  hills,  when  the  star  of  eve  brings  the  calves 
home  from  pasture,  and  the  sound  of  the  lamb's  bleat- 
ing whets  the  wolf's  maw,  sits  down  in  the  middle  of 
the  rock  and  tells  over  their  tale.  Soon  as_Arist8eus 
saw  the  facility  within  his  grasp,  scarcely  giving  the 
old  one  time  to  settle  his  tired  limbs,  he  bursts  on  him 
with  a  tremendous  cr}^,  and  invades  him  with  manacles 
there  as  he  lies.  The  god  on  his  part,  his  craft  then, 
as  ever,  in  his  mind,  transforms  himself  into  all  that  is 

r>  VjvulA''  \ '  ^inonstrous  in  nature  —  the  fire,  the  hideous  beast,  the 
\^      \~^^^        flowing   stream.     But   when   no   stratagem   finds   him 

^jCk>>^\  escape,  vanquished,  he  becomes  himself  again,  and  at 

last  from  human  lips  speaks  thus  :  —  '  Wh}^,  who  has 
bid  thee,  most  assured  of  all  youths  that  are,  to  visit 
us  in  our  home  ?  or  what  wouldst  thou  have  hence  ? ' 
But  he,  '  Thou  knowest,  Proteus,  thou  knowest  of  thy- 
self—  naught  can  cheat  thee  ;  but  do  thou  leave  off"  the 
will  to  cheat.  Following  the  instructions  of  gods  I  am 
come,  to  ask  an  oracle  for  my  o'erlabored  fortunes.' 
So  far  he  spoke.  At  this  the  seer  at  length,  with  mighty 
force,  darted  on  him  the  glass-green  glare  of  his  fiery 
eyes,  and  heavily  gnashing  his  teeth,  thus  broke  the 
seal  of  his  lips  with  the  voice  of  destiny  :  — 


Ck^^'^ 


BOOK  IV.  115 

*  No  —  think  not  it  is  no  angrj  god  that  has  laid  his 
hand  on  thee  --thj_suffering  is  for  a  great  crime  :  this 
th}'  punishment  Orpheus,  a  wretched  man  b}^  no  fault    ^>va  '^V.jqJ/^'' 
of  his  own,  should  fate  not  interpose,  is  still  stinging    ^o*^  \  ^\f 

into  life,  still  raging  implacably  for  his  ravished  bride.    \    >  fl"^"^^^^^ rSL 
She,  in  her  headlong  flight  from  thee,  along  the  river    q  Cji^ 
meadow,  saw  not,  the  young  doomed  one  that  she  was,  ^ 
in  the   deep   grass   an   enormous   water-serpent  right 
before  her  feet,  keeping  ward  over  the  river-bank.    But 
the  choir  of  her  peers,  the  Dr3^ads,  filled  the  very  moun- 
tain-peaks with  their  cr3'ing :  her  dirge  was  sung  by  the 
steeps  of  Rhodope,  and  high  Pangsea  and  Rhesus'  land, 
the  land  of  the  war-god,  by  the  Getse,  by  Hebrus,  and 
Orithyia,    Acte's   child ;   while   he,  solacing   with  the 
hollow  shell  his  distempered  love,  made  thee,  darling 
wife,  thee,  all  to  himself  on  the  lonely  shore,  thee  at 
dawn  of  day,  thee  at  set  of  sun,  his  unending  song.  ^ 
Aye,  and  he  entered  the  jaws  of  Taenarus,  the  abysmal 
gates  of  Pluto's  court,  and  the  grove  that  darkles  with    .   .    AtAtM^ 
a  horror  of  blackness  ;  he  went  to  the  shades,  and  their    ^^   -Wcui^ 
terrible  king,  and  knocked  at  the  heart  which  never       '^ 
learnt  to  soften   at   human  prayer.      Startled  by  the 
song,  came  trooping  from  Erebus'  deepest  prison  thin 
specters  and  phantoms  of  those  who  lie  in  darkness, 
many  as  the  myriads  of  birds  that  hide  them  in  the 
leaves,  when  eve  or  winter's  rain  chases  them  from  the 
hills  —  matrons,  and  husbands,   and   frames  of  high- 
souled  heroes  discharged  of  life,  boys  and  unwedded 
girls,  and  3'ouths  that  had  been  carried  to  death  in  their 
parents'  sight,  round  whom  the  blackening  ooze  and 
the  loathly  reeds  of  Cocytus,  and  the  sluggish  waters 
of  that  unlovely  swamp  throw  their  chains,  and  Styx, 
wound  nine  times  about  them,  holds  them  in  durance. 
Nay,  a  charm  fell  on  the  very  house  of  death,  on  the 


116  THE  GEORGICS. 

abj^ss   of  Tartarus   itself,  and  the  Furies,  with  livid 
snakes  wreathing  in  their  hair,  and  Cerberus  riveted 
his  three  mouths  attentive  and  agape,  and  Ixion's  cir- 
cling wheel  stood  fixed  in  wind-bound  slumber.     And 
now  he  was  returning  home,  and  every  chance  was  just 
escaped,  and  Eurydice,  surrendered  to  his  pra3'er,  was 
passing  into  the  air  of  heaven,  following  behind  —  for 
such  the  condition  that  Proserpine  had  imposed  —  when 
a  sudden  frenzy  took  hold  of  the  unthinking  lover  —  a 
sin  that  might  plead  for  pardon,  were  pardon  an  art 
known  to  the  shades  —  he  stopped.    Eurj^dice  was  now 
his  own,  treading  on  the  very  threshold  of  daylight  — 
his   memory  fled,  alas!    his  soul  was  mastered  —  he 
.    ^    V       looked  back  on  her.     That  instant  all  his  pains  were 
^^\f^        spilt  like  so  much  water,  the  covenant  of  the  ruthless 
^^     ^^     monarch  was  broken,  and  a  thunder  peal  was  heard 
,  "  C;^    \  thrice  through  Avernus'  sluggish  depths.     She  cried  — 

S^  "  Oh  !  what  madness,  what  monstrous  madness  has  un- 

done me,  poor  me,  and  thee  too,  my  Orpheus?  Look ! 
again  that  cruel  destiny  is  calling  me  back,  and  sleep 
is  burying  my  swimming  ej'es.  And  now  farewell.  I  am 
borne  awa}',  swathed  in  night's  vast  pall,  and  stretch- 
ing towards  thee  powerless  hands — thine  own,  alas! 
no  longer."  She  said,  and  suddenly  from  his  sight, 
like  smoke  that  mingles  with  thin  air,  she  fled  b}^  an- 
other waj',  and  though  he  caught  in  vain  at  the  shadows, 
and  essayed  to  sa}'  a  thousand  things,  never  saw  him 
more :  nor  did  the  ferryman  of  Orcus  suffer  him  any 
further  to  pass  the  barrier  of  marsh-water.  What  was 
he  to  do?  whither  was  he  to  turn  him,  thus  widowed  a 
second  time  ?  where  was  there  a  new  wail  to  touch  the 
shades,  new  accents  to  melt  the  gods  below?  And  she 
—  she  was  floating  off"  in  the  boat  of  Styx,  death-chilled 


td^ 


BOOK  IV.  117 

already y/ Seven  whole  months,  one  with  another,  they 
say,  under  a  sk^-ey  rock,  by  the  waters  of  lonely  Stry- 
inon,  he  made  his  moan,  and  unfolded  this  his  tale  be- 
neath the  wintry  caverns,  in  strains  that  softened  the 
tiger  and  drew  the  oak  to  follow  him  —  as  the  nightin- 
gale wailing  in  the  poplar  shade  plains  for  her  lost 
young,  that  the  rustic  churl,  with  his  prying  eye,  has 
taken  unfledged  from  the  nest:  while  she  weeps  the 
night  through,  and  sitting  on  a  bough,  reproduces  her 
piteous  melody,  and  fills  the  country  round  with  the 
plaints  of  her  sorrow.  No  queen  of  love,  no  bridal 
rites  had  power  over  his  soul.  Alone,  over  H3^per- 
borean  ice,  and  Tanais  the  snowy,  and  fields  whose 
marriage-bond  with  Rhipsean  frost  is  never  severed,  he 
would  ramble,  sorrowing  for  his  lost  Eurydice  and 
Pluto's  canceled  boon  —  a  service  resented  as  scorn 
b}'  the  Cicon  dames,  who,  on  a  night  of  sacrifice  fy^^-Xj'-*'^ 
to  heaven  and  orgies  to  Bacchus,  tore  the  youth  in  ^-ii>cX*^ 
pieces,  and  scattered  him  broadcast  over  the  plain. 
Even  then,  while  the  head,  rent  from  that  pale  marble  \  ^  ^ijCsL 
neck,  was  swept  floating  down  the  midst  of  CEagrian   \,*^^^'*f^jp 


Ilebrus'  flood,  Eurydice^  the  bare  voice  of  the  cold 
tongue  —  All !  my  poor  Eurydice  —  kept  calling  as  life 
parted.  Eurydice^  the  banks  returned  all  down  the 
'stream.' 

So  far  Proteus,  and  flounced  into  the  deep  sea,  and 
when  he  plunged  wreathed  the  water  in  foam  under  the 
circling  eddy. 

Not  so  Cyrene —  at  once  she  turned  to  the  trembling 
listener :  — '  My  son,  you  are  free  to  unburden  your 
mind  of  its  grievous  care.  .  This  is  the  whole  secret  of 
the  plague  :  for  this  the  nymphs,  with  whom  she  wont 
to  dance  in  the  tall  green  wood,  have  sent  among  your 


iyOA'*^^ 


118  THE  GEORGJCS, 

bees  such  piteous  haA^oc.  Be  it  3'ours  to  tender  a  sup- 
pliant's offerings,  pra3ing  to  be  reconciled,  and  pay 
homage  to  the  gracious  sisters  of  the  groves  :  for  they 
will  grant  forgiveness  at  3'our  pra3'er,  and  abate  their 
wrath.  But  the  method  of  supplication  shall  first  be 
explained  in  due  course.  Pick  out  four  choice  bulls  of 
goodl}^  frame,  now  grazing  among  thj^  herds  on  the  top 
of  green  L^caeus,  and  as  man}' heiferfj  whose  neck  never 
yoke  has  touched.  For  these  set  up  four  altars  by  the 
gods'  lofty  fanes,  and  let  from  their  throats  the  stream 
of  sacred  blood,  and  leave  the  bodies  of  the  kine  to 
themselves  in  the  leafy  grove.  After,  when  the  ninth 
morn-goddess  shall  have  displayed  the  dawn,  to  Or- 
pheus you  will  send  a  funeral  sacrifice  of  Lethe's  pop- 
pies, and  sla}'  a  black  sheep,  and  visit  the  grove  again : 
then,  when  3'ou  find  Eur3'dice  appeased,  3'ou  will  pay 
her  the  thank-offering  of  a  slaughtered  calf.' 

Not  an  hour's  dela3^ :  at  once  he  does  his  mother's 
bidding :  to  the  fane  he  comes :  he  uprears  the  pre- 
scribed altars,  four  choice  bulls  of  goodly  frame  he 
leads  thither,  and  as  many  heifers  whose  neck  never 
3'oke  has  touched.  After,  when  the  ninth  morn-god- 
dess had  ushered  in  the  dawn,  he  sends  to  Orpheus  a 
funeral  sacrifice,  and  visits  the  grove  again.  And  now 
a  portent,  sudden  and  marvelous  to  tell,  meets  their 
view  :  through  the  whole  length  of  the  kine's  dissolving 
flesh  bees  are  seen,  buzzing  in  the  belly  and  boiling  out 
through  the  bursten  ribs,  and  huge  clouds  lengthen  and 
swa3^  till  at  last  the}^  pour  altogether  to  the  tree's  top, 
and  let  down  a  cluster  from  the  bending  boughs. 
/  Such  was  the  song  I  was  making  ;  a  song  of  the  hus- 
band r3'  of  fields  and  cattle,  and  of  trees  ;  while  Caesar, 
the  great,  is  flashing  war's  thunderbolt  over  the  depths 


BOOK  IV,  119 

of  Euphrates,  and  dispensing  among  willing  nations  a 
conqueror's  law,  and  setting  his  foot  on  the  road  to  the 
sk}'.  In  those  da3's  I  was  being  nursed  in  Parthenope's 
delicious  lap,  embowered  in  the  pursuits  of  inglorious 
peace  —  I,  Virgil,  who  once  dallied  with  the  shepherd's 
muse,  and  with  a  3'oung  man's  boldness,  sang  of  thee, 
Tityrus,  under  the  spreading  beechen  shade. 


THE   iENEID. 


BOOK  I. 

Arms  and  the  man  I  sing,  who  at  the  first  from  Troy's 
shores,  the  exile  of  destiny,  won  his  way  to  Italy  and 
her  Latian  coast  —  a  man  much  buffeted  on  land  and 
on  the  deep  bj"  violence  from  above,  to  sate  the  unfor- 
getting  wrath  of  Juno  the  cruel  —  much  scourged  too 
in  war,  as  he  struggled  to  build  him  a  city,  and  find  his 
gods  a  home  in  Latium  —  himself  the  father  of  the 
Latian  people,  and  the  chiefs  o^Alba's  houses,  and  the 
walls  of  high  towering  Rome. 

Bring  to  my  mind,  O  Muse,  the  causes  —  for  what 
treason  against  her  godhead,  or  what  pain  received,  the 
queen  of  heaven  drove  a  man  of  piety  so  signal  to  turn 
the  wheel  of  so  many  calamities,  to  bear  the  brunt  of 
so  many  hardships !  Can  heavenly  natures  hate  so 
fiercely  and  so  long  ? 

Of  old  there  was  a  citj^,  its  people  emigrants  from 
Tyre,  Carthage,  over  against  Italy  and  Tiber's  mouths, 
yet  far  removed  —  rich  and  mighty,  and  formed  to  all 
roughness  by  war's  iron  trade  —  a  spot  w^here  Juno,  it 
was  said,  loved  to  dwell  more  than  in  all  the  world 
beside,  Samos  holding  but  the  second  place.  Here  was 
her  armor,  here  her  chariot  —  here  to  fix  b}"  her  royal 
act  the  empire  of  the  nations,  could  Fate  be  brought  to 
assent,  was  even  then  her  aim,  her  cherished  scheme. 
But  she  had  heard  that  the  blood  of  Troy  was  sowing 

120 


BOOK  I.  121 

the  seed  of  a  race  to  overturn  one  day  those  Tyrian 
towers  —  from  that  seed  a  nation,  monarch  of  broad 
realms  and  glorious  in  war,  was  to  bring  ruin  on  Libya 

—  such  the  turning  of  Fate's  wheel.  With  these  fears 
Saturn's  daughter,  and  with  a  lively  memory  of  that  old 
war  which  at  first  she  had  waged  at  Tro}^  for  her  loved 
Argos'  sake  —  nor  indeed  had  the  causes  of  that  feud 
and  the  bitter  pangs  they  roused  yet  vanished  from  her 
mind  —  no,  stored  up  in  her  soul's  depths  remains  the 
judgment  of  Paris,  and  the  wrong  done  to  her  slighted 
beauty,  and  the  race  abhorred  from  the  womb,  and  the 
state  enjo3^ed  by  the  ravished  Gan3aiiede.  With  this 
fuel  added  to  the  fire,  the  Trojans,  poor  remnants  of 
Danaan  havoc  and  Achilles'  ruthless  spear,  she  was 
tossing  from  sea  to  sea,  and  keeping  far  away  from 
Latium  ;  and  for  many  long  years  they  were  wandering, 
with  destiny  still  driving  them,  the  whole  ocean  round. 
So  vast  the  effort  it  cost  to  build  up  the  Roman  nation  ! 

Scarce  out  of  sight  of  the  land  of  Sicily  were  they 
spreading  their  sails  merrily  to  the  deep,  and  scattering 
with  their  brazen  prows  the  brin}^  spra}',  when  Juno, 
the  everlasting  wound  still  rankling  in  her  heart's  core, 
thus  communed  with  herself:  'And  am  I  to  give  up 
what  I  have  taken  in  hand,  baffled,  nor  have  power  to 
prevent  the  king  of  the  Teucrians  from  reaching  Italy 

—  because,  forsooth,  the  Fates  forbid  me?  What! 
was  Pallas  strong  enough  to  burn  up  utterly  the  Grecian 
fleet,  and  whelm  the  crews  in  the  sea,  for  the  offense 
of  a  single  man,  the  frenzy  of  Ajax,  Oileus'  son? 
Aye,  she  with  her  own  hand  launched  from  the  clouds 
Jove's  winged  fire,  dashed  the  ships  apart,  and  turned 
up  the  sea-floor  with  the  wind  —  him,  gasping  out  the 
flame  which  pierced  his  bosom,  she  caught  in  the  blast, 
and  impaled  on  a  rock's  point —  while  I,  who  walk  the 


122  THE  ^NEID. 

skj^  as  its  queen,  Jove's  sister  and  consort  both,  am 
battling  with  a  single  nation  these  many  years.  And 
are  there  any  found  to  pray  to  Juno's  deity  after  this, 
or  lay  on  her  altar  a  suppliant's  gift  ? ' 

With  such  thoughts  sweeping  through  the  solitude  of 
her  enkindled  breast,  the  goddess  comes  to  the  storm- 
cloud's  birthplace,  the  teeming  womb  of  fierce  southern 
blasts,  JEolia.  Here,  in  a  vast  cavern.  King  ^olus  is 
bowing  to  his  sway  struggHng  winds  and  howling  tem- 
pests, and  bridling  them  with  bond  and  prison.  They, 
in  their  passion,  are  raving  at  the  closed  doors,  while 
the  huge  rock  roars  responsive :  -/Eolus  is  sitting  aloft 
in  his  fortress,  his  scepter  in  his  hand,  soothing  their 
moods  and  allaying  their  rage  ;  were  he  to  fail  in  this,  why 
sea  and  land,  and  the  deep  of  heaven,  would  all  be 
forced  along  by  their  blast,  and  swept  through  the  air. 
But  the  almighty  sire  has  buried  them  in  caverns  dark 
and  deep,  with  this  fear  before  his  ej^es,  and  placed 
over  them  giant  bulk  and  tall  mountains,  and  given  them 
a  king  who,  by  the  terms  of  his  compact,  should  know 
how  to  tighten  or  slacken  the  reins  at  his  patron's  will. 
To  him  it  was  that  Juno  then,  in  these  words,  made  her 
humble  request :  — 

*  JEolus  —  for  it  is  to  thee  that  the  sire  of  gods  and 
king  of  men  has  given  it  with  the  winds  now  to  calm, 
now  to  rouse  the  billows  —  there  is  a  race  which  I  love 
not  now  sailing  the  T3Trhene  sea,  carrying  Ilion  into 
Italy  and  Ilion's  vanquished  gods  ;  do  thou  lash  the 
winds  to  fury,  sink  and  whelm  their  ships,  or  scatter 
them  apart,  and  strew  the  ocean  with  their  corpses. 
Twice  seven  nymphs  are  of  my  train,  all  of  surpassing 
beauty ;  of  these  her  whose  form  is  fairest,  Deiopea,  I 
will  unite  to  thee  in  lasting  wedlock,  and  consecrate  her 
thy  own,  that  all  her  days,  for  a  service  so  great,  she 


BOOK  I.  123 

may  pass  with  thee,  and  make  thee  father  of  a  goodly 
progeny/ 

^olus  returns  :  *  Thine,  great  Queen,  is  the  task  to 
search  out  on  what  thou  mayest  fix  thy  heart ;  for  me 
to  do  thy  bidding  is  but  right.  Thou  makest  this  poor 
realm  mine,  mine  the  scepter  and  Jove's  smile ;  thou 
givest  me  a  couch  at  the  banquets  of  the  gods,  and 
makest  me  lord  of  the  storm-cloud  and  of  the  tempest.' 

So  soon  as  this  was  said,  he  turned  his  spear,  and 
pushed  the  hollow  mountain  on  its  side ;  and  the  winds, 
as  though  in  column  formed,  rush  forth  where  they  see 
an  outlet,  and  sweep  over  the  earth  in  hurricane. 
Heavily  they  fall  on  the  sea,  and  from  its  ver}^  bottom 
crash  down  the  whole  expanse — one  and  all,  east  and 
south,  and  south-west,  with  his  storms  thronging  at 
his  back,  and  roll  huge  billows  shoreward.  Hark  to  the 
shrieks  of  the  crew,  and  the  creaking  of  the  cables ! 
In  an  instant  the  clouds  snatch  sky  and  daylight  from 
the  Teucrians'  eyes  —  night  lies  on  the  deep,  black  and 
heav}"  —  pole  thunders  to  pole ;  heaven  flashes  thick 
with  fires,  and  all  nature  brandishes  instant  death  in  the 
seaman's  face.  At  once  Eneas'  limbs  are  unstrung  and 
chilled  —  he  groans  aloud,  and,  stretching  his  clasped 
hands  to  the  stars,  fetches  from  his  breast  words  like 
these  :  —  '  O  happy,  thrice  and  again,  whose  lot  it  was, 
in  their  fathers'  sight,  under  Troy's  high  walls  to  meet 
death !  O  thou,  the  bravest  of  the  Danaan  race, 
Tydeus'  son,  why  was  it  not  mine  to  lay  me  low  on 
Ilion's  plains,  and  3-ield  this  fated  life  to  thy  right 
hand?  Aye,  there  it  is  that  Hector,  stern  as  in  life, 
lies  stretched  by  the  spear  of  ^acides  —  there  lies 
Sarpedon's  giant  bulk  —  there  it  is  that  Simois  seizes 
and  sweeps  down  her  channel  those  many  shields  and 
helms,  and  bodies  of  the  brave ! ' 


124  THE  jENEID. 

Such  words  as  he  flung  wildly  forth,  a  blast  roaring 
from  the  north  strikes  his  sail  full  in  front  and  lifts 
the  billows  to  the  stars.  Shattered  are  the  oars  ;  then 
the  prow  turns  and  presents  the  ship's  side  to  the 
waves ;  down  crashes  in  a  heap  a  craggy  mountain  of 
water.  Look !  these  are  hanging  on  the  surge's  crest 
—  to  those  the  yawning  deep  is  giving  a  glimpse  of 
land  down  among  the  billows  ;  surf  and  sand  are  rav- 
ing together.  Three  ships  the  south  catches,  and  flings 
upon  hidden  rocks — rocks  which,  as  they  stand  with  the 
waves  all  about  them,  the  Italians  call  Altars,  an  enor- 
mous ridge  rising  above  the  sea.  Three  the  east  drives 
from  the  main  on  to  shallows  and  SjTtes,  a  piteous 
sight,  and  dashes  them  on  shoals,  and  embanks  them  in 
mounds  of  sand.  One  in  which  the  Ljxians  were  sail- 
ing, and  true  Orontes,  a  mighty  sea  strikes  from  high  on 
the  stem  before  Eneas'  ver}'  e^^es  ;  down  goes  the  helms- 
man, washed  from  his  post,  and  topples  on  his  head, 
while  she  is  thrice  whirled  round  by  the  billow  in  the 
spot  where  she  lay,  and  swallowed  at  once  by  the  greedy 
gulf.  You  might  see  them  here  and  there  swimming  in 
that  vast  ab3^ss  —  heroes'  arms,  and  planks,  and  Troy's 
treasures  glimmering  through  the  water.  Already 
Ilioneus'  stout  ship,  alread}'  brave  Achates',  and  that 
in  which  Abas  sailed,  and  that  which  carried  old  Aletes, 
are  worsted  by  the  storm ;  their  side-jointings  loosened, 
one  and  all  give  entrance  to  the  watery  foe,  and  part 
failingly  asunder. 

Meantime  the  roaring  riot  of  the  ocean  and  the  storm 
let  loose  reached  the  sense  of  Neptune,  and  the  still 
waters  disgorged  from  their  deep  beds,  troubling  him 
grievously ;  and  casting  a  broad  glance  over  the  main 
he  raised  at  once  his  tranquil  brow  from  the  water's 
surface.  ,  There  he  sees  Eneas'  fleet  tossed  hither  and 


BOOK  r.  125 

thither  over  the  whole  expanse  —  the  Trojans  whelmed 
under  the  billows,  and  the  crashing  ruin  of  the  sky  — 
nor  failed  the  brother  to  read  Juno's  craft  and  hatred 
there.  East  and  West  he  calls  before  him,  and  bespeaks 
them  thus :  —  '  Are  ye  then  so  whollj^  o'ermastered  by 
the  pride  of  your  birth?  Have  ye  come  to  this,  ye 
Winds,  that,  without  sanction  from  me,  3'e  dare  to  con- 
found sea  and  land,  and  upheave  these  mighty  moun- 
tains? 3"e !  whom  I but  it  were  best  to  calm  the 

billows  3^6  have  troubled.  Henceforth  ye  shall  paj^  me 
for  3'our  crimes  in  far  other  coin.  Make  good  speed 
With  3^our  flight,  and  give  your  king  this  message. 
Not  to  him  did  the  lot  assign  the  empire  of  the  sea  and 
the  terrible  trident,  but  to  me.  His  swaj^  is  over  those 
enormous  rocks,  where  you,  Eurus,  dwell,  and  such  as 
you ;  in  that  court  let  ^olus  lord  it,  and  rule  in  the 
prison-house  of  the  winds  when  its  doors  are  barred.' 

He  speaks,  and  ere  his  words  are  done  soothes  the 
swelling  waters,  and  routs  the  mustered  clouds,  and 
brings  back  the  sun  in  triumph.  Cj'mothoe  and  Triton 
combine  their  efforts  to  push  off  the  vessels  from  the 
sharp-pointed  rock.  The  god  himself  upheaves  them 
with  his  own  trident,  and  levels  the  great  quicksands, 
and  alias's  the  sea,  and  on  chariot-wheels  of  lightest 
motion  glides  along  the  water's  top.  Even  as  when  in 
a  great  crowd  tumult  is  oft  stirred  up,  and  the  base 
herd  waxes  wild  and  frantic,  and  brands  and  stones 
are  flying  already,  rage  suiting  the  weapon  to  the  hand 
—  at  that  moment,  should  their  eyes  fall  on  some  man 
of  weight,  for  duty  done  and  public  worth,  tongues  are 
hushed  and  ears  fixed  in  attention,  while  his  words 
sway  the  spirit  and  soothe  the  breast  —  so  fell  all  the 
thunders  of  the  ocean,  so  soon  as  the  great  father, 
with  the  waves  before  him  in  prospect,  and  the  clear 


126  THE  yENEID. 

sk}^  all  about  him,  guides  his  steeds  at  will,  and  as  he 
flies,  flings  out  the  reins  freely  to  his  obedient  car. 

Spent  with  toil,  the  family  of  ^neas  labor  to  gain 
the  shore  that  may  be  nearest,  and  are  carried  to  the 
coasts  of  Libya.  There  is  a  spot  retiring  deep  into 
the  -land,  where  an  island  forms  a  haven  by  the  barrier 
of  its  sides,  which  break  every  billow  from  the  main 
and  send  it  shattered  into  the  deep  indented  hollows. 
On  either  side  of  the  bay  are  huge  rocks,  and  two  great 
crags  rising  in  menace  to  the  sky  ;  under  their  summits 
far  and  wide  the  water  is  hushed  in  shelter,  while  a 
theatric  background  of  waving  woods,  a  black  forest  of 
stiffening  shade,  overhangs  it  from  the  height.  Under 
the  brow  that  fronts  the  deep  is  a  cave  with  pendent 
crags ;  within  there  are  fresh  springs  and  seats  in  the 
living  rock  —  the  home  of  the  nymphs ;  no  need  of 
cable  here  to  confine  the  weary  bark  or  anchor's  crook- 
ed fang  to  grapple  her  to  the  shore.  Here  with  seven 
ships  mustered  from  his  whole  fleet  ^neas  entejs ; 
and  with  intense  yearning  for  dry  land  the  Trojans  dis- 
embark and  take  possession  of  the  wished-for  shore, 
and  lay  their  brine-drenched  limbs  upon  the  beach. 
And  first  Achates  from  a  flint  struck  out  a  spark,  and 
received  the  fire  as  it  dropped  in  a  cradle  of  leaves,  and 
placed  dry  wood  all  about  it,  and  spread  the  strong 
blaze  among  the  tinder.  Then  their  corn,  soaked  and 
spoiled  as  it  was,  and  the  corn-goddess'  armor}^  they 
bring  out,  sick  of  fortune ;  and  make  ready  to  parch 
the  rescued  grain  at  the  fire,  and  crush  it  with  the 
millstone. 

^neas  meanwhile  clambers  up  a  rock,  and  tries  to 
get  a  full  view  far  and  wide  over  the  sea,  if  haply  he 
ma}"  see  aught  of  Antheus,  driven  by  the  gale,  and  the 
Phrygian  biremes,  or  Cap3S,  or  high  on  the  stern  the 


BOOK  L  127 

arms  of  Caicus.  Sail  there  is  none  in  sight ;  three 
stags  he  sees  at  distance  straying  on  the  shore ;  these 
the  whole  herd  follows  in  the  rear,  and  grazes  along 
the  hollows  in  long  array.  At  once  he  took  his  stand, 
and  caught  up  a  bow  and  fleet  arrows,  which  true 
Achates  chanced  to  be  carrying,  and  la3-s  low  first  the 
leaders  themselves,  as  they  bear  their  heads  aloft  with 
tree-like  antlers,  then  the  meaner  sort,  and  scatters 
with  his  pursuing  shafts  the  whole  rout  among  the  leafy 
woods  ;  nor  stays  his  hand  till  he  stretches  on  earth 
victoriously  seven  huge  bodies,  and  makes  the  sum  of 
them  even  with  his  ships.  Then  he  returns  to  the 
haven  and  gives  all  his  comrades  their  shares.  The 
wine  next,  w^liich  that  good  Acestes  had  stowed  in 
casks  on  the  Trinacrian  shore,  and  given  them  at  part- 
ing with  his  own  princel3'  hand,  he  portions  out,  and 
speaks  words  of  comfort  to  their  sorrowing  hearts  :  = — 

'  Comrades  !  for  comrades  we  are,  no  strangers  to 
hardships  already  ;  hearts  that  have  felt  deeper  wounds ! 
for  these  too  heaven  will  find  a  balm.  Wh}-,  men,  30U 
have  even  looked  on  Scylla  in  her  madness,  and  heard 
those  3'ells  that  thrill  the  rocks  ;  3'ou  have  even  made 
trial  of  the  crags  of  the  Cyclops.  Come,  call  your 
spirits  back,  and  banish  these  doleful  fears  —  who 
knows  but  some  da3^  this  too  will  be  remembered  with 
pleasure?  Through  manifold  chances,  through  these 
man3"  perils  of  fortune,  we  are  making  our  way  to  La- 
tium,  where  the  Fates  hold  out  to  us  a  quiet  settle- 
ment ;  there  Troy's  empire  has  leave  to  rise  again  from 
its  ashes.  Bear  up,  and  reserve  yourselves  for  brighter 
days.' 

Such  were  the  words  his  tongue  uttered ;  heart-sick 
with  overwhelming  care,  he  wears  the  semblance  of 
hope  in  his  face,  but  has  grief  deep  buried  in  his  heart. 


128  THE  AlNEID. 

They  gird  themselves  to  deal  with  the  game,  their 
forthcoming  meal ;  strip  the  hide  from  the  ribs,  and 
laj'  bare  tlie  flesli  —  some  cut  it  into  pieces,  and  impale 
it  yet  quivering  on  spits,  otliers  set  up  the  caldrons 
on  the  beach,  and  suppl}^  them  with  flame.  Then  with 
food  they  recall  their  strength,  and,  stretched  along 
the  turf,  feast  on  old  wine  and  fat  venison  to  their 
hearts'  content.  Their  hunger  sated  by  the  meal,  and 
the  boards  removed,  they  vent  in  long  talk  their  anx- 
ious yearning  for  their  missing  comrades  —  balanced 
between  hope  and  fear,  whether  to  think  of  them  as 
alive,  or  as  suffering  the  last  change,  and  deaf  already 
to  the  voice  that  calls  on  them.  But  good  .Eneas' 
grief  exceeds  the  rest ;  one  moment  he  groans  for  bold 
Orontes'  fortune,  another  for  Am^xus',  and  in  the 
depth  of  his  spirit  laments  for  the  cruel  fate  of  Lycus  ; 
for  the  gallant  Gj'as  and  the  gallant  Cloanthus. 

And  now  at  last  their  mourning  had  an  end,  when 
Jupiter  from  the  height  of  etlier,  looking  down  on  the 
sea  with  its  fluttering  sails,  on  the  flat  surface  of  earth, 
tlie  shores,  and  the  broad  tribes  of  men,  paused  thus 
upon  heaven's  ver}^  summit,  and  fixed  his  downward 
gaze  on  Libya's  realms.  To  him,  revolving  in  his 
breast  such  thoughts  as  these,  sad  beyond  her  wont, 
with  tears  suffusing  her  starry  eyes,  speaks  Venus  :  '  O 
thou,  who  b}'  thy  everlasting  laws  swayest  the  two 
commonwealths  of  men  and  gods,  and  awest  them  by 
th}'  lightning  !  What  can  my  poor  iEneas  have  done 
to  merit  thy  wrath?  What  can  the  Trojans?  yet  the}', 
after  the  man}'  deaths  they  have  suffered  already,  still 
find  the  whole  world  barred  against  them  for  Italy's 
sake.  From  them  assuredly  it  was  that  the  Romans, 
as  years  rolled  on  —  from  them  were  to  spring  those 
warrior  chiefs,  aye  from  Teucer's  blood  revived,  who 


BOOK  I.  129 

should  rule  sea  and  land  with  absolute  sway  —  such 
was  th}'  promise :  how  has  th}^  purpose,  O  my  father, 
wrought  a  change  in  thee?  This,  I  know,  was  mj^  con- 
stant solace  when  Troy's  star  set  in  grievous  ruin,  as  I 
sat  balancing  destin}^  against  destiny.  And  now  here 
is  the  same  Fortune,  pursuing  the  brave  men  she  has 
so  oft  discomfited  alread}'.  Mighty  king,  what  end  of 
sufferings  hast  thou  to  give  them?  Antenor,  indeed, 
found  means  to  escape  through  the  midst  of  the 
Achseans,  to  thread  in  safety  the  windings  of  the  Illy- 
rian  coast,  and  the  realms  of  the  Liburnians,  up  at  the 
gulf's  head,  and  to  pass  the  springs  of  Timavus,  whence 
through  nine  morfths,  'mid  the  rocks'  responsive  roar, 
the  sea  comes  bursting  up,  and  deluges  the  fields  with 
its  thundering  billows.  Yet  in  that  spot  he  built  the 
city  of  Patavium  for  his  Trojans  to  dwell  in,  and  gave 
them  a  place  and  a  name  among  the  nations,  and  set 
up  a  rest  for  the  arms  of  Troy :  now  he  reposes,  lapped 
in  the  calm  of  peace.  Meantime  we,  of  thine  own  blood, 
to  whom  th}^  nod  secures  the  pinnacle  of  heaven,  our 
ships,  most  monstrous,  lost,  as  thou  seest,  all  to  sate 
the  malice  of  one  cruel  heart,  are  given  up  to  ruin,  and 
severed  far  from  the  Italian  shores.  Is  this  the  reward 
of  piet}^  ?     Is  this  to  restore  a  king  to  his  throne  ?  ' 

Smiling  on  her,  the  planter  of  gods  and  men,  with 
that  face  which  calms  the  fitful  moods  of  the  sky, 
touched  with  a  kiss  his  daughter's  lips,  then  addressed 
her  thus  :  '  Give  thy  fears  a  respite,  lady  of  Cythera : 
th}'  people's  destiny  abides  still  unchanged  for  thee ; 
thine  eyes  shall  see  the  city  of  th}^  heart,  the  promised 
walls  of  Lavinium ;  thine  arms  shall  bear  aloft  to  the 
stars  of  heaven  thy  hero  ^neas  ;  nor  has  my  purpose 
wrought  a  change  in  me.  Thy  hero —  for  I  will  speak 
out,  in  pity  for  the  care  that  rankles  yet,  and  awaken 
9 


130  THE  ^NEID, 

the  secrets  of  Fate's  book  from  the  distant  pages  where 
they  slumber  —  thy  hero  shall  wage  a  mighty  war  in 
Italy,  crush  its  haughty  tribes,  and  set  up  for  his  war- 
riors a  polity  and  a  city,  till  the  third  summer  shall 
have  seen  him  king  over  Latium,  and  three  winters  in 
camp  shall  have  passed  over  the  Rutulians'  defeat.  But 
the  boy  Ascanius,  who  has  now  the  new  name  of  lulus 
—  Ilus  he  was,  while  the  roj^alty  of  Ilion's  state  stood 
firm  —  shall  let  thirty  of  the  sun's  great  courses  fulfil 
their  monthly  rounds  while  he  is  sovereign,  then  trans- 
fer the  empire  from  Lavinium's  seat,  and  build  Alba  the 
Long,  with  power  and  might.  Here  for  full  three  hun- 
dred years  the  crown  shall  be  worn  by  Hector's  line, 
till  a  royal  priestess,  teeming  by  the  war-god.  Ilia,  shall 
be  the  mother  of  twin  sons.  Then  shall  there  be  one, 
proud  to  wear  the  tawny  hide  of  the  wolf  that  nursed 
him,  Romulus,  who  will  take  up  the  scepter,  and  build 
a  new  city,  the  city  of  Mars,  and  give  the  people  his 
own  name  of  Roman.  To  them  I  assign  no  limit,  no 
date  of  empire :  m}^  grant  to  them  is  dominion  with- 
out end.  Nay,  Juno,  thy  savage  foe,  who  now,  in 
her  blind  terror,  lets  neither  sea,  land,  nor  heaven  rest, 
shall  amend  her  counsels,  and  vie  with  me  in  watching 
over  the  Romans,  lords  of  earth,  the  great  nation  of  the 
gown.  So  it  is  willed.  The  time  shall  come,  as  Rome's 
years  roll  on,  when  the  house  of  Assaracus  shall  bend 
to  its  3^oke  Phthia  and  renowned  Mycenae,  and  queen  it 
over  vanquished  Argos.  Then  shall  be  born  the  child 
of  an  illustrious  line,  one  of  thine  own  Trojans,  Caesar, 
born  to  extend  his  empire  to  the  ocean,  his  glor}^  to  the 
stars  —  Julius,  in  name  as  in  blood  the  heir  of  great 
lulus.  Him  thou  shalt  one  day  welcome  in  safety  to 
the  sky,  a  warrior  laden  with  Eastern  spoils ;  to  him, 
as  to  -^neas,  men  shall  pray  and  make  their  vows.    In 


BOOK  I.  131 

his  days  war  shall  cease,  and  savage  times  grow  mild. 
Faith  with  her  hoar}'  head,  and  Vesta,  Quirinus,  and 
Remus  his  brother,  shall  give  law  to  the  world :  grim, 
iron-bound,  closely  welded,  the  gates  of  war  shall  be 
closed  ;  the  fiend  of  Discord  a  prisoner  within,  seated 
on  a  pile  of  arms  deadly  as  himself,  his  hands  bound 
behind  his  back  with  a  hundred  brazen  chains,  shall 
roar  ghastl}'  from  his  throat  of  blood.* 

So  saying,  he  sends  down  from  on  high  the  son  of 
Maia,  that  Carthage  the' new,  her  lands  and  her  towers, 
may  open  themselves  to  welcome  in  the  Teucrians,  lest 
Dido,  in  her  ignorance  of  Fate,  should  drive  them  from 
her  borders.  Down  flies  Mercury  through  the  vast 
abyss  of  air,  with  his  wings  for  oars,  and  has  speedily 
alighted  on  the  shore  of  Lib3^a.  See !  he  is  doing  his 
bidding  already :  the  Punic  nation  is  resigning  the 
fierceness  of  its  nature  at  the  god's  pleasure  ;  above  all 
the  rest,  the  queen  is  admitting  into  her  bosom  thoughts 
of  peace  towards  the  Teucrians,  and  a  heart  of  kind- 
ness. 

But  ^neas  the  good,  revolving  man}^  things  the 
whole  night  through,  soon  as  the  gracious  dawn  is 
vouchsafed,  resolves  to  go  out  and  explore  this  new 
region ;  to  inquire  what  shores  be  these  on  which  the 
wind  has  driven  him  ;  who  their  dwellers,  for  he  sees  it 
is  a  wilderness,  men  or  beasts  ;  and  bring  his  comrades 
back  the  news.  Ilis  fleet  he  hides  in  the  wooded  cove 
under  a  hollow^-ock,  with  a  wall  of  trees  and  stiffening 
shade  on  each  side.  lie  moves  on  with  Achates,  his 
single  companion,  wielding  in  his  hands  two  spear- 
shafts,  with  heads  of  broad  iron.  He  had  reached  the 
middle  of  the  wood,  when  his  way  was  crossed  by  his 
mother,  wearing  a  maiden's  mien  and  dress,  and  a 
maiden's   armor,   Spartan,  or  even  as   Harpalyce  of 


^18^  THE  ^NEID. 

Thrace,  tires  steed  after  steed,  and  heads  the  swift 
waters  of  her  own  Hebrus  as  she  flies  along.  For  she 
had  a  shapel}'  bow  duly  slung  from  her  shoulders  in  true 
huntress  fashion,  and  her  hair  streaming  in  the  wind, 
her  knee  bare,  and  her  flowing  scarf  gathered  round  her 
in  a  knot.  Soon  as  she  sees  them,  '  Ho  !  3'ouths,'  cries 
she,  '  if  you  have  chanced  to  see  one  of  my  sisters  wan- 
dering in  these  parts,  tell  me  where  to  find  her —  wan- 
dering with  a  quiver,  and  a  spotted  Ij-nx-hide  fastened 
about  her ;  or,  it  ma}'  be,  pressing  on  the  heels  of  the 
foaming  boar  with  her  hounds  in  full  cry.' 

Thus  Venus  spoke,  and  Venus*  son  replied  :  —  '  No 
sight  or  hearing  have  we  had  of  an}'  sister  of  thine,  O 
thou  —  what  name  shall  I  give  thee  ?  maiden  ;  for  thy 
face  is  not  of  earth,  nor  the  tone  of  thy  voice  human  : 
some  goddess  surely  thou  art.  Phoebus'  sister  belike, 
or  one  of  the  blood  of  the  nymphs  ?  be  gracious,  whoe'er 
thou  art,  and  relieve  our  hardship,  and  tell  us  under 
what  sk}^  now,  on  what  realms  of  earth  we  are  thrown. 
Utter  strangers  to  the  men  and  the  place,  we  are  wan- 
dering, as  thou  seest,  by  the  driving  of  the  wind  and 
of  the  might}^  waters.  Do  this,  and  many  a  victim 
shall  fall  to  thee  at  the  altar  b}^  this  hand  of  mine.' 

Then  Venus :  —  '  Na}',  I  can  lay  claim  to  no  such 
honors.  Tyrian  maidens,  like  me,  are  wont  to  carrj^ 
the  quiver,  and  tie  the  purple  buskin  high  up  the  calf. 
This  that  3'ou  now  see  is  the  Punic  realm,  the  nation 
Tyrian  and  the  town  Agenor's  ;  but  on  the  frontiers  are 
the  Libyans,  a  race  ill  to  handle  in  war.  The  queen  is 
Dido,  who  left  her  home  in  Tyre  to  escape  from  her 
brother.  Lengthy  is  her  tale  of  wTong,  lengthy  the 
windings  of  its  course ;  but  I  will  pass  rapidly  from 
point  to  point.  Her  husband  was  Sychseus,  wealthiest 
of  Phoenician  land-owners,  and  loved  by  his  poor  wife 


BOOK  L  133 

with  fervid  passion ;  on  him  her  father  had  bestowed 
her  in  her  maiden  bloom,  Unking  them  together  by  the 
omens  of  a  first  bridal.  But  the  crown  of  Tyre  was  on 
the  head  of  her  brother,  Pygmahon,  in  crime  monstrous 
beyond  the  rest  of  men.  They  were  two,  and  fury 
came  between  them.  Impious  that  he  was,  at  the  very 
altar  of  the  palace,  the  love  of  gold  blinding  his  eyes, 
he  surprises  Sychseus  with  his  stealthy  steel,  and  lays 
him  low,  without  a  thought  for  his  sister's  passion  ;  he 
kept  the  deed  long  concealed,  and  with  many  a  base 
coinage  sustained  the  mockery  of  false  hope  in  her  pin- 
ing love-lorn  heart.  But  lo  !  in  her  sleep  there  came  to 
her  no  less  than  the  semblance  of  her  unburied  spouse, 
lifting  up  a  face  of  strange  unearthly  pallor ;  the  ruth- 
less altar  and  his  breast  gored  with  the  steel,  he  laid 
bare  the  one  and  the  other,  and  unveiled  from  first  to 
last  the  dark  domestic  crime.  Then  he  urges  her  to 
speed  her  flight,  and  quit  her  home  forever,  and  in 
aid  of  her  journe}^  unseals  a  hoard  of  treasure  long  hid 
in  the  earth,  a  mass  of  silver  and  gold  which  none 
else  knew.  Dido's  soul  was  stirred  ;  she  began  to  make 
read}'  her  flight,  and  friends  to  share  it.  There  they 
meet,  all  whose  hate  of  the  tyrant  was  fell  or  whose 
fear  was  bitter  ;  ships,  that  chanced  to  lie  ready  in  the 
harbor,  thej^  seize,  and  freight  with  gold.  Awa}'  it  floats 
over  the  deep,  the  greedy  Pj^gmalion's  wealth  ;  and 
who  heads  the  enterprise  ?  a  woman  !  So  they  came  to 
the  spot  where  3'ou  now  see  yonder  those  lofty  walls, 
and  the  rising  citadel  of  Carthage  the  new ;  there  they 
bought  ground,  which  got  from  the  transaction  the  name 
of  Byrsa,  as  much  as  they  could  compass  round  with  a 
bull's  hide.  But  who  are  you  after  all?  What  coast 
are  3'ou  come  from,  or  whither  are  you  holding  on  your 
journey?'      That   question   he   answers   thus,   with  a 


134  THE  ^NEID. 

heavy  sigh,  and  a  voice  fetched  from  the  bottom  of  bis 
heart :  — 

'  Fair  goddess  !  should  I  begin  from  the  first  and  pro- 
ceed in  order,  and  hadst  thou  leisure  to  listen  to  the 
chronicle  of  our  sufferings,  eve  would  first  close  the 
Olympian  gates  and  la3^  the  day  to  sleep.  For  us, 
bound  from  ancient  Troy,  if  the  name  of  Troy  has  ever 
chanced  to  pass  through  a  Tyrian  ear,  wanderers  over 
divers  seas  already,  we  have  been  driven  by  a  istorm's 
wild  will  upon  your  Libyan  coasts.  I  am  ^neas, 
styled  the  good,  who  am  bearing  with  me  in  my  fleet 
the  gods  of  Troy  rescued  from  the  foe ;  a  name  blazed 
by  rumor  above  the  stars.  I  am  in  quest  of  Italy, 
looking  there  for  an  ancestral  home,  and  a  pedigree 
drawn  from  high  Jove  himself.  With  twice  ten  ships 
I  climbed  the  Phrygian  main,  with  a  goddess  mother 
guiding  me  on  my  way,  and  a  chart  of  oracles  to  fol- 
low. Scarce  seven  remain  to  me  now,  shattered  by 
wind  and  wave.  Here  am  1,  a  stranger,  nay,  a  beggar, 
wandering  over  your  Libyan  deserts,  driven  from  Europe 
and  Asia  alike.'  Venus  could  bear  the  complaint  no 
longer,  so  she  thus  struck  into  the  middle  of  his  sor- 
rows :  — 

'  Whoever  you  are,  it  is  not,  I  trow,  under  the  frown 
of  heavenly  powers  that  you  draw  the  breath  of  life, 
thus  to  have  arrived  at  our  Tyrian  town.  Only  go  on, 
and  make  your  way  straight  hence  to  the  queen's  pal- 
ace. For  I  give  you  news  that  your  comrades  are  re- 
turned and  your  fleet  brought  back,  wafted  into  shelter 
by  shifting  gales,  unless  m}-  learning  of  augury  was 
vain,  and  the  parents  who  taught  me  cheats.  Look  at 
these  twelve  swans  exultant  in  victorious  column,  which 
the  bird  of  Jove,  swooping  from  the  height  of  ether, 
was  just  now  driving  in  confusion  over  the  wide  un- 


BOOK  I.  135 

sheltered  skj^ ;  see  now  how  their  line  stretches,  some 
alighting  on  the  ground,  others  just  looking  down  on 
those  alighted.  As  they,  thus  rallied,  ply  their  whirring 
wings  in  sport,  spreading  their  train  round  the  sky,  and 
uttering  songs  of  triumph,  even  so  your  vessels  and 
your  gallant  crews  are  either  safe  in  the  port,  or  en- 
tering the  haven  with  sails  full  spread.  Only  go  on, 
and  where  the  way  leads  you  direct  your  steps.' 

She  said,  and  as  she  turned  away,  flashed  on  their 
sight  her  neck's  roseate  hue ;  her  ambrosial  locks 
breathed  from  her  head  a  heavenly  fragrance  ;  her  robe 
streamed  down  to  her  very  feet ;  and  in  her  walk  was 
revealed  the  true  goddess.  Soon  as  he  knew  his 
mother,  he  pursued  her  flying  steps  with  words  like 
these  :  —  '  Why  wilt  thou  be  cruel  like  the  rest,  mock- 
ing thy  son  these  man}'  times  with  feigned  semblances  ? 
Why  is  it  not  mine  to  grasp  thy  hand  in  my  hand,  and 
hear  and  return  the  true  language  of  the  heart  ?  *  Such 
are  his  upbraidings,  while  he  yet  bends  his  way  to  the 
town.  But  Venus  fenced  them  round  with  a  dim  cloud 
as  they  moved,  and  wrapped  them  as  a  goddess  only 
can  in  a  spreading  mantle  of  mist,  that  none  anight  be 
able  to  see  them,  none  to  touch  them,  or  put  hinderances 
in  their  path,  or  ask  the  reason  of  their  coming.  She 
takes  her  way  aloft  to  Paphos,  glad  to  revisit  the  abode 
she  loves,  where  she  has  a  temple  and  a  hundred  altars, 
smoking  with  Sabaean  incense,  and  fragrant  with  gar- 
lands ever  new. 

They,  meanwhile,  have  pushed  on  their  way,  where 
the  path  guides  them,  and  already  they  are  climbing  the 
hill  which  hangs  heavily  over  the  city,  and  looks  from 
above  on  the  towers  that  rise  to  meet  it.  JEneas  mar- 
vels at  the  mass  of  building,  once  a  mere  village  of 
huts ;  marvels  at  the  gates,  and  the  civic  din,  and  the 


136  THE  jENEID, 

paved  ways.  The  T3Tians  are  alive  and  on  fire  —  in- 
tent, some  on  carrjdng  the  walls  aloft  and  upheaving 
the  citadel,  and  rolling  stones  from  underneath  bj^  force 
of  hand  ;  some  on  making  choice  of  a  site  for  a  dwell- 
ing, and  enclosing  it  with  a  trench.  They  are  ordain- 
ing the  law  and  its  guardians,  and  the  senate's  sacred 
majesty.  Here  are  some  digging  out  havens  ;  there  are 
others  laying  deep  the  foundations  of  a  theater,  and 
hewing  from  the  rocks  enormous  columns,  the  lofty 
ornaments  of  a  stage  that  is  to  be.  Such  are  the  toils 
that  keep  the  commonwealth  of  bees  at  work  in  the  sun 
among  the  flowery  meads  when  summer  is  new,  what 
time  the}"  lead  out  the  nation's  hope,  the  3'oung  now 
grown,  or  mass  together  honey,  clear  and  flowing,  and 
strain  the  cells  to  bursting  with  its  nectarous  sweets, 
or  relieve  those  who  are  coming  in  of  their  burdens,  or 
collect  a  troop  and  expel  from  their  stalls  the  drones, 
that  lazy,  thriftless  herd.  The  work  is  all  fire,  and  a 
scent  of  thyme  breathes  from  the  fragrant  honey.  '  O 
happy  the}',  whose  city  is  rising  already  !  *  cries  JEneas, 
as  he  looks  upward  to  roof  and  dome.  In  he  goes, 
close  fenced  b}-  his  cloud,  miraculous  to  tell,  threads 
his  way  through  the  midst,  and  mingles  with  the  cit- 
izens, unperceived  of  all. 

A  grove  there  was  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  most 
plenteous  of  shade  —  the  spot  where  first,  fresh  from 
the  buflfeting  of  wave  and  wind,  the  Punic  race  dug  up 
the  token  which  queenly  Juno  had  bidden  them  expect, 
the  head  of  a  fiery  steed  —  for  even  thus,  said  she,  the 
nation  should  be  renowned  in  war  and  rich  in  sus- 
tenance for  a  life  of  centuries.  Here  Dido,  Sidon's 
daughter,  was  building  a  vast  temple  to  Juno,  rich  in 
offerings  and  in  the  goddess's  especial  presence ;  of 
brass  was  the  threshold  with  its  rising  steps,  clamped 


BOOK  T,  137 

with  brass  the  door-posts,  the  hinge  creaked  on  a  door 
of  brass.  In  this  grove  it  was  that  first  a  new  object 
appeared,  as  before,  to  sootlie  away  fear :  here  it  was 
that  ^neas  first  dared  to  hope  that  all  was  safe,  and  to 
place  a  better  trust  in  his  shattered  fortunes.  For 
while  his  eye  ranges  over  each  part  under  the  temple's 
massy  roof,  as  he  waits  there  for  the  queen  —  while  he 
is  marveling  at  the  city's  prosperous  star,  the  various 
artist-hands  vying  with  each  other,  their  tasks  and  the 
toil  they  cost,  he  beholds,  scene  after  scene,  the  battles 
of  Ilion,  and  the  war  that  Fame  had  already  blazed  the 
whole  world  over  —  Atreus'  sons,  and  Priam,  and  the 
enem}^  of  both,  Achilles.  He  stopped  short,  and 
breaking  into  tears,  'What  place  is  there  left?' he 
cries,  '  Achates,  what  clime  on  earth  that  is  not  full  of 
our  sad  story?  See  there  Priam.  Here,  too,  worth 
finds  its  due  reward ;  here,  too,  there  are  tears  for 
human  fortune,  and  hearts  that  are  touched  by  mortal- 
ity. Be  free  from  fear  :  this  renown  of  ours  will  bring 
you  some  measure  of  safety.'  So  speaking,  he  feeds 
his  soul  on  the  empty  portraiture,  with  many  a  sigh, 
and  lets  copious  rivers  run  down  his  cheeks.  For  he 
still  saw  how,  as  thej^  battled  round  Pergamus,  here 
the  Greeks  were  flying,  the  Trojan  3'outh  in  hot  pur- 
suit;  here  the  Phrj'gians,  at  their  heels  in  his  car 
Achilles,  with  that  dreadful  crest.  Not  far  from  this 
he  recognizes  with  tears  the  snow}^  canvas  of  Rhesus' 
tent,  which,  all  surprised  in  its  first  sleep,  Tydeus'  son 
was  devastating  with  wide  carnage,  himself  bathed  in 
blood  —  see  !  he  drives  off  the  fiery  steeds  to  his  own 
camp,  ere  they  have  had  time  to  taste  the  pastures  of 
Tro}'  or  drink  of  Xanthus.  There  in  another  part  is 
Troilus  in  flight,  his  arms  fallen  from  him  —  unhappy 
boy,  confronted  with  Achilles   in  unequal  combat  — 


138  THE  ^NEID, 

hurried  away  by  his  horses,  and  hanging  half  out  of 
the  empty  car,  with  his  head  thrown  back,  but  the  reins 
still  in  his  hand  ;  his  neck  and  his  hair  are  being  trailed 
along  the  ground,  and  his  inverted  spear  is  drawing 
lines  in  the  dust.  Meanwhile  to  the  temple  of  Pallas, 
not  their  friend,  were  moving  the  Trojan  dames  with 
locks  disheveled,  carrying  the  sacred  robe,  in  suppliant 
guise  of  mourning,  their  breasts  bruised  with  their 
hands  —  the  goddess  was  keeping  her  e3'es  riveted  on 
the  ground,  with  her  face  turned  away.  Thrice  had 
Achilles  dragged  Hector  round  the  walls  of  Ilion,  and 
was  now  selling  for  gold  his  body,  thus  robbed  of  breath. 
Then,  indeed,  heavy  was  the  groan  that  he  gave  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart,  when  he  saw  the  spoils,  the 
car,  the  very  body  of  his  friend,  and  Priam,  stretching 
out  those  helpless  hands.  Himself,  too,  he  recognizes 
in  the  forefront  of  the  Achaean  ranks,  and  the  squad- 
rons of  the  East,  and  the  arms  of  the  swarthy  Mem- 
non.  There,  leading  the  columns  of  her  Amazons, 
with  their  moony  shields,  is  Penthesilea  in  her  martial 
frenzy,  blazing  out,  the  center  of  thousands,  as  she 
loops  up  her  protruded  breast  with  a  girdle  of  gold, 
the  warrior  queen,  and  nerves  herself  to  the  shock  of 
combat,  a  maiden  against  men. 

While  these  things  are  meeting  the  wondering  eyes 
of  ^neas  the  Dardan  —  while  he  is  standing  bewil- 
dered, and  continues  riveted  in  one  set  gaze  —  the 
queen  has  moved  towards  the  temple.  Dido,  of  loveliest 
presence,  with  a  vast  train  of  3^ouths  thronging  round 
her.  Like  as  on  Eurotas'  banks,  or  along  the  ridges  of 
C3'ntlms,  Diana  is  footing  the  dance,  while  attending 
her,  a  thousand  mountain  nymphs  are  massing  them- 
selves on  either  side  ;  she,  her  quiver  on  her  shoulder, 
as  she  steps,  towers  over  the  whole  goddess  sisterhood, 


BOOK  I.  189 

while  Latona's  bosom  thrills  silently  with  delight ;  such 
was  Dido  —  such  she  bore  herself  triumphant  through 
the  midst,  to  speed  the  work  which  had  empire  for  its 
prospect.  Then,  at  the  doors  of  the  goddess,  under 
the  midmost  vaulting  of  the  temple,  with  a  fence  of 
arms  round  her,  supported  high  on  a  throne,  she  took 
her  seat.  There  she  was  giving  laws  and  judgments  to 
her  citizens,  and  equalizing  the  burden  of  their  tasks 
by  fair  partition,  or  draughting  it  by  lot,  when  suddenly 
-^neas  sees  coming  among  the  great  crowd  Antheus  and 
Sergestus,  and  brave  Cloanthus,  and  others  of  the  Tea- 
crians,  whom  the  black  storm  had  scattered  over  the 
deep,  and  carried  far  away  to  other  coasts.  Astounded 
was  he,  overwhelmed,  too,  was  Achates,  all  for  joy  and 
fear :  eagerlj^  were  they  burning  to  join  hands  with 
theirs,  but  the  unexplained  mystery  confounds  their 
minds.  They  carry  on  the  concealment,  and  look  out 
from  the  hollow  cloud  that  wraps  them,  to  learn  what 
fortune  their  mates  have  had,  on  what  shore  they  are 
leaving  their  fleet,  what  is  their  errand  here  —  for  they 
were  on  their  way,  a  deputation  from  all  the  crews, 
suing  for  grace,  and  were  making  for  the  temple  with 
loud  cries. 

After  they  had  gained  an  entrance,  and  had  obtained 
leave  to  speak  in  the  presence,  Ilioneus,  the  eldest, 
thus  began,  calm  of  soul :  — 

'  Gracious  queen,  to  whom  Jupiter  has  given  to 
found  a  new  city,  and  to  restrain  by  force  of  law  the 
pride  of  savage  nations,  we,  hapless  Trojans,  driven  by 
the  winds  over  every  sea,  make  our  prayer  to  3^ou  — 
keep  oflf  from  our  ships  the  horrors  of  fire,  have  pity 
on  a  pious  race,  and  vouchsafe  a  nearer  view  to  our 
affairs.  We  are  not  come  to  carry  the  havoc  of  the 
sword  into  the  homes  of  Libya  —  to  snatch  booty  and 


140  THE  ^NEID. 

hurry  it  to  the  shore  ;  such  violence  is  not  in  our  na- 
ture ;  such  insolence  were  not  for  the  vanquished. 
There  is  a  place  —  the  Greeks  call  it  Hesperia  —  a  land 
old  in  stor}',  strong  in  arms  and  in  the  fruitfulness  of 
its  soil ;  the  (Enotrians  were  its  settlers ;  now  report 
says  that  later  generations  have  called  the  nation  Italian, 
from  the  name  of  their  leader.  Thither  were  we  voy- 
aging, when,  rising  with  a  sudden  swell,  Orion,  lord  of 
the  storm,  carried  us  into  hidden  shoals,  and  far  away 
by  the  stress  of  reckless  gales  over  the  water,  the  surge 
mastering  us,  and  over  pathless  rocks  scattered  us  here 
and  there :  a  small  remnant,  we  drifted  hither  on  to 
your  shores.  What  race  of  men  have  we  here  ?  What 
country  is  so  barbarous  as  to  sanction  a  native  usage 
like  this  ?  Even  the  hospitality  of  the  sand  is  forbid- 
den us  —  they  draw  the  sword,  and  will  not  let  us  set 
foot  on  the  land's  edge.  If  you  defy  the  race  of  men, 
and  the  weapons  that  mortals  wield,  j^et  look  to  have 
to  do  with  gods,  who  watch  over  the  right  and  the 
wrong.  iEneas  was  our  king,  than  whom  never  man 
breathed  more  just,  more  eminent  in  piet}^,  or  in  war 
and  martial  prowess.  If  the  Fates  are  keeping  our 
hero  alive  —  if  he  is  feeding  on  this  upper  air,  and  not 
yet  lying  down  in  death's  cruel  shade  —  all  our  fears 
are  over,  nor  need  you  be  sorry  to  have  made  the  first 
advance  in  the  contest  of  kindly  courtesy.  The  realm 
of  Sicily,  too,  has  cities  for  us,  and  store  of  arms,  and 
a  hero-king  of  Trojan  blood,  Acestes.  Give  us  leave 
but  to  laj'  up  on  shore  our  storm-beaten  fleet,  to  fashion 
timber  in  your  forests,  and  strip  boughs  for  our  oars, 
tliat,  if  we  are  allowed  to  sail  for  Italy,  our  comrades 
and  khig  restored  to  us,  we  may  make  our  joA'ful  way 
to  Italy  and  to  Latium  ;  or,  if  our  safety  is  swallowed 
up,  and  thoQ,  best  father  of  the  Teucrians,  art  the  prey 


BOOK  L  141 

of  the  Libyan  deep,  and  a  nation's  hope  lives  no  longer 
in  lulus,  then,  at  least,  we  may  make  for  Sicania's 
straits,  and  the  houses  standing  to  welcome  us,  whence 
we  came  hither,  and  may  find  a  king  in  Acestes.'  Such 
was  the  speech  of  Ilioneus  ;  an  accordant  clamor  burst 
at  once  from  all  the  sons  of  Dardanus. 

Then  briefly  Dido,  with  downcast  look,  makes  reply : 
—  '  Teucrians  !  unburden  your  hearts  of  fear,  lay  your 
anxieties  aside.  It  is  the  stress  of  danger  and  the  in- 
fancy of  my  kingdom  that  make  me  put  this  policy  in 
motion  and  protect  my  frontiers  with  a  guard  all  about. 
The  men  of  ^neas  and  the  city  of  Troy  —  who  can  be 
ignorant  of  them?  —  the  deeds  and  the  doers,  and  'all 
the  blaze  of  that  might}^  war?  Not  so  blunt  are  the 
wits  we  Punic  folk  carry  with  us,  not  so  wholly  does 
the  sun  turn  his  back  on  our  Tyrian  town  when  he  har- 
nesses his  steeds.  Whether  you  make  your  choice  of 
Hesperia  the  great,  and  the  old  realm  of  Saturn,  or  of 
the  borders  of  Er3^x  and  their  king  Acestes,  I  will  send 
you  on  your  wa}^  with  an  escort  to  protect  3-ou,  and 
will  supply  3-0U  with  stores.  Or  would  you  like  to  settle 
along  with  me  in  mj^  kingdom  here  ?  Look  at  the  city 
I  am  building,  it  is  yours,  lay  up  your  ships,  Trojan 
and  T^^rian  shall  be  dealt  with  by  me  without  distinc- 
tion. Would  to  heaven  3^our  king  were  here  too,  driven 
by  the  gale  that  drove  you  hither  —  iEneas  himself! 
For  mj^self,  I  will  send  trusty  messengers  along  the 
coast,  with  orders  to  traverse  the  furthest  parts  of 
Lib3-a,  in  case  he  should  be  shipwrecked  and  wander- 
ing anywhere  in  forest  or  town.' 

Excited  b^^  her  words,  brave  Achates  and  father 
-^neas,  too,  were  burning  long  ere  this  to  break  out  of 
their  cloud.  Achates  first  accosts  iEneas  :  —  *  God- 
dess-born, what  purpose  now  is  foremost  in  your  mind? 


142  THE  ^NEID. 

All  3^ou  see  is  safe,  our  fleet  and  our  mates  are  restored 
to  us.  One  is  missing,  whom  our  own  e^'es  saw  in  the 
midst  of  the  surge  swallowed  up,  all  the  rest  is  even  as 
your  mother  told  us.' 

Scarce  had  he  spoken  when  the  cloud  that  enveloped 
them  suddenly  parts  asunder  and  clears  into  the  open 
skj^  Out  stood  ^neas,  and  shone  again  in  the  bright 
sunshine,  his  face  and  his  bust  the  image  of  a  god,  for 
his  great  mother  had  shed  graceful  tresses  over  her 
son's  brow,  and  the  glowing  flush  of  youth,  and  had 
breathed  the  breath  of  beauty  and  gladness  into  his 
eyes,  loveliness  such  as  the  artist's  touch  imparts  to 
ivory,  or  when  silver  or  Parian  marble  is  enchased  with 
yellow  gold.  Then  he  addresses  the  queen,  and  speaks 
suddenly  to  the  astonishment  of  all :  — '  Here  am  I 
whom  you  are  seeking,  before  you.  JEneas,  the  Trojan, 
snatched  from  the  jaws  of  the  Lib}- an  wave.  O  heart 
that  alone  of  all  has  found  pity  for  Troy's  cruel  agonies 
—  that  makes  us,  poor  remnants  of  Dansean  fury,  ut- 
terly spent  by  all  the  chances  of  land  and  sea,  desti- 
tute of  all,  partners  of  its  city,  of  its  very  palace ! 
To  pay  such  a  debt  of  gratitude.  Dido,  is  more  than 
we  can  do  —  more  than  can  be  done  by  all  the  survi- 
vors of  the  Dardan  nation,  now  scattered  the  wide 
world  over.  May  the  gods  —  if  there  are  powers  that 
regard  the  pious,  if  justice  and  conscious  rectitude 
count  for  aught  anywhere  on  earth  —  may  they  give 
you  the  reward  you  merit !  What  age  had  the  happi- 
ness to  bring  j-ou  forth?  what  godlike  parents  gave 
such  nobleness  to  the  world  ?  While  the  rivers  run  into 
the  sea,  while  the  shadows  sweep  along  the  mountain- 
sides, while  the  stars  draw  life  from  the  sky,  j'our  glory 
and  your  name  and  your  praise  shall  still  endure,  what- 
ever the  land  whose  call  I  must  obey.'     So  saying,  he 


BOOK  L  143 

stretches  out  his  right  hand  to  his  friend  Ilioneus,  his 
left  to  Serestus,  and  so  on  to  others,  gallant  Gyas  and 
gallant  Cloanthus. 

Astounded  was  Dido,  Sidon's  daughter,  first  at-  the 
hero's  presence,  then  at  his  enormous  sufferings,  and 
she  bespoke  him  thus  :  — '  What  chance  is  it,  goddess- 
born,  that  is  hunting  you  through  such  a  wilderness  of 
perils  ?  what  violence  throws  you  on  our  savage  coasts  ? 
Are  you,  indeed,  the  famed  ^neas,  whom  to  Anchises 
the  Dardan,  Venus,  queen  of  light  and  love,  bore  by  the 
stream  of  Simois?  Aye,  I  remember  Teucer  coming 
to  Sidon,  driven  from  the  borders  of  his  fatherland, 
hoping  to  gain  a  new  kingdom  by  the  aid  of  Belus. 
Belus,  m}'  sire,  was  then  laying  waste  the  rich  fields  of 
Cyprus,  and  ruling  the  isle  with  a  conqueror's  sway. 
Ever  since  that  time  I  knew  the  fate  of  the  Trojan  city, 
and  3'our  name,  and  the  Pelasgian  princes.  Foe  as  he 
was,  he  would  alwaj's  extol  the  Teucrians  with  signal 
praise,  and  profess  that  he  himself  came  of  the  ancient 
Teucrian  stock.  Come  then,  brave  men,  and  make 
our  dwelhngs  your  home.  I,  too,  have  had  a  fortune 
like  yours,  which,  after  the  buffeting  of  countless  suf- 
ferings, has  been  pleased  that  I  should  find  rest  in  this 
land  at  last.  Myself  no  stranger  to  sorrow,  I  am 
learning  to  succor  the  unhappy.'  With  these  words,  at 
the  same  moment  she  ushers  JEneas  into  her  queenly 
palace,  and  orders  a  solemn  sacrifice  at  the  temples  of 
the  gods.  Meantime,  as  if  this  were  naught,  she  sends 
to  his  comrades  at  the  shore  twenty  bulls,  a  hundred 
huge  swine  with  backs  all  bristling,  a  hundred  fat 
lambs  with  their  mothers,  and  the  wine-god's  jovial 
bounty. 

But  the  palace  within  is  laid  out  with  all  the  splendor 
of  regal  luxury,  and  in  the  center  of  the  mansion  they 


144  THE  ^NEID. 

are  making  ready  for  the  banquet ;  the  coverlets  are 
embroidered,  and  of  princel}^  pul-ple  —  on  the  tables  is 
massy  silver,  and  chased  on  gold  the  gallant  exploits 
of  Tyrian  ancestors,  a  long,  long  chain  of  story,  de- 
rived through  hero  after  hero  ever  since  the  old  nation 
was  young. 

-^neas,  for  his  fatherly  love  would  not  leave  his 
heart  at  rest,  sends  on  Achates  with  speed  to  the  ships 
to  tell  Ascanius  the  news  and  conduct  him  to  the  city. 
On  Ascanius  all  a  fond  parent's  anxieties  are  centered. 
Presents,  moreover,  rescued  from  the  ruins  of  Ilion,  he 
bids  him  bring  —  a  pall  stiff  with  figures  of  gold,  and 
a  veil  with  a  border  of  yellow  acanthus,  adornments  of 
Argive  Helen,  which  she  carried  away  from  M3xense, 
when  she  went  to  Troy  and  to  her  unblessed  bridal, 
her  mother  Leda's  marvelous  gift ;  the  scepter,  too, 
which  Hi  one  had  once  borne,  the  eldest  of  Priam's 
daughters,  and  the  string  of  pearls  for  the  neck,  and 
the  double  coronal  of  jewels  and  gold.  With  this  to 
dispatch.  Achates  was  bending  his  way  to  the  ships. 

But  the  lady  of  Cythera  is  casting  new  wiles,  new 
devices  in  her  breast,  that  Cupid,  form  and  feature 
changed,  may  arrive  in  the  room  of  the  charmer  Asca- 
nius, and  bj^  the  presents  he  brings  influence  the  queen 
to  madness,  and  turn  the  very  marrow  of  her  bones 
to  fire.  She  fears  the  two-faced  generation,  the 
double-tongued  sons  of  T^tc  ;  Juno's  hatred  scorches 
her  like  a  flame,  and  as  night  draws  on  the  care  comes 
back  to  her.  So  then  with  these  words  she  addresses 
her  winged  Love :  — '  My  son,  who  art  alone  my 
strength  and  my  mighty  power,  my  son,  who  laughest 
to  scorn  our  great  father's  T3'phoean  thunderbolts,  to 
thee  I  flj^  for  aid,  and  make  suppliant  prayer  of  th}' 
majesty.      How  thy  brother  -^neas  is  tossed  on  the 


BOOK  L  145 

ocean  the  whole  world  over  by  Juno*s  implacable  ran- 
cor I  need  not  tell  thee  —  nay,  thou  hast  often  mingled 
thy  grief  with  mine.  He  is  now  the  guest  of  Dido,  the 
Phoenician  woman,  and  the  spell  of  a  courteous  tongue 
is  laid  on  him,  and  I  fear  what  may  be  the  end  of 
taking  shelter  under  Juno's  wing ;  she  will  never  be 
idle  at  a  time  on  which  so  much  hangs.  Thus  then 
I  am  planning  to  be  first  in  the  field,  surprising  the 
queen  by  stratagem,  and  encompassing  her  with  fire, 
that  no  power  may  be  able  to  work  a  change  in  her,  but 
that  a  mighty  passion  for  ^neas  may  keep  her  mine. 
For  the  way  in  which  thou  may  est  bring  this  about, 
listen  to  what  I  have  been  thinking.  The  young  heir 
of  royalty,  at  his  loved  father's  summons,  is  making 
ready  to  go  to  this  Sidonian  city  —  m}^-  soul's  darling 
that  he  is  —  the  bearer  of  presents  that  have  survived 
the  sea  and  the  flames  of  Troy.  Him  I  will  lull  in 
deep  sleep  and  hide  him  in  my  hallowed  dwelling  high 
on  Cythera  or  Idalia,  that  by  no  chance  he  may  know 
or  mar  our  plot.  Do  thou  then  for  a  single  night,  no 
more,  artfull}'  counterfeit  his  form,  and  put  on  the 
boy's  usual  look,  th3"self  a  bo}',  that  when  Dido,  at  the 
height  of  her  jo}',  shall  take  thee  into  her  lap,  while  the 
princely  board  is  laden  with  the  vine-god's  liquor  flow- 
ing, when  she  shall  be  caressing  thee  and  printing  her 
fondest  kisses  on  thy  cheek,  thou  mayest  breathe  con- 
cealed fire  into  her  veins,  and  steal  upon  her  with 
poison.' 

At  once  Love  complies  with  his  fond  mother's  words, 
puts  off  his  wings,  and  walks  rejoicing  in  the  gait  of 
lulus.  As  for  Ascanius,  Venus  sprinkles  his  form  all 
over  with  the  dew  of  gentle  slumber,  and  carries  him, 
as  a  goddess  may,  lapped  in  her  bosom,  into  Idalia's 
lofty  groves,  where  a  soft  couch  of  amaracus  enfolds 
10 


146  THE  yENEID. 

him  with  its  flowers,  and  the  fragrant  breath  of  its 
sweet  shade.  Meanwhile  Cupid  was  on  his  way,  all 
obedience,  bearing  the  royal  presents  to  the  Tyrians, 
and  glad  to  follow  Achates.  When  he  arrives,  he  finds 
the  queen  already  settled  on  the  gorgeous  tapestry  of 
a  golden  couch,  and  occupying  the  central  place.  Al- 
ready' father  -^neas,  already  the  chivalry  of  Troy  are 
flocking  in,  and  stretching  themselves  here  and  there 
on  coverlets  of  purple.  There  are  servants  offering 
them  water  for  their  hands,  and  deftly  producing  the 
bread  from  the  baskets,  and  presenting  towels  with 
shorn  nap.  Within  are  fifty  maidens,  whose  charge  is 
in  course  to  pile  up  provisions  in  lasting  store,  and 
light  up  with  fire  the  gods  of  the  hearth.  A  hundred 
others  there  are,  and  male  attendants  of  equal  number 
and  equal  age,  to  load  the  table  with  dishes,  and  set 
on  the  cups.  The  Tyrians,  too,  have  assembled  in 
crowds  through  the  festive  hall,  and  scatter  themselves 
as  invited  over  the  embroidered  couches.  There  is  mar- 
veling at  Eneas'  presents,  marveling  at  lulus,  at  those 
glowing  features,  where  the  god  shines  through,  and 
those  words  which  he  feigns  so  well,  and  at  the  robe 
and  the  veil  with  the  yellow  acanthus  border.  Chief  of 
all,  the  unhappy  victim  of  coming  ruin  cannot  satisfy 
herself  with  gazing,  and  kindles  as  she  looks,  the  Phoe- 
nician woman,  charmed  with  the  boy  and  the  presents 
alike.  He,  after  he  has  hung  long  in  Eneas'  arms  and 
round  his  neck,  gratifjing  the  intense  fondness  of  the 
sire  he  feigned  to  be  his,  finds  his  way  to-  the  queen. 
She  is  riveted  by  him  —  riveted  eye  and  heart,  and 
ever  and  anon  fondles  him  in  her  lap — poor  Dido,  un- 
conscious how  great  a  god  is  sitting  heavy  on  th^t 
wretched  bosom.  But  he,  with  his  mind  still  bent  on 
his  Acidalian  mother,  is  beginning  to  efface  the  name 


BOOK  L  147  ,^^ 

of  Sychseus  letter  by  letter,  and  endeavoring  to  ^ws- yXJ.AAJ^-^''-^ 
prise  by  a  living  passion  affections  long  torpid,  and  a 
heart  long  unused  to  love. 

When  the  banquet's  first  lull  was  come,  and  the 
board  removed,  then  they  set  up  the  huge  bowls  and 
wreathe  the  wine.  A  din  rings  to  the  roof —  the  voice 
rolls  through  those  spacious  halls ;  lamps  hang  from 
the  gilded  ceiling,  burning  brightly,  and  flambeau-fires 
put  out  the  night.  Then  the  queen  called  for  a  cup, 
heavy  with  jewels  and  gold,  and  filled  it  with  unmixed 
wine ;  the  same  which  had  been  used  b}^  Belus,  and 
every  king  from  Belus  downward.  Then  silence  was 
commanded  through  the  hall.  '  Jupiter,  for  thou  hast 
the  name  of  lawgiver  for  guest  and  host,  grant  that  this 
day  may  be  auspicious  alike  for  the  Tyrians  and  the 
voyagers  from  Troy,  and  that  its  memory  may  long 
live  among  our  posterity.  Be  with  us,  Bacchus,  the 
giver  of  jollity,  and  Juno,  the  queen  of  our  blessings ; 
and  3'ou,  the  lords  of  Tjtc,  may  your  goodwill  grace 
this  meeting.'  She  said,  and  poured  on  the  table  an 
offering  of  the  wine,  and,  the  libation  made,  touched 
the  cup  first  with  her  lips,  then  handed  it  to  Bitias,  ral- 
lying his  slowness.  Eagerly  he  quaffed  the  foaming 
goblet,  and  drenched  himself  deep  with  its  brimming 
gold.  Then  came  the  other  lords  in  order.  lopas,  the 
long-haired  bard,  takes  his  gilded  lyre,  and  fills  the 
hall  with  music ;  he,  whose  teacher  was  the  mighty 
Atlas.  His  song  is  of  the  wanderings  of  the  moon  and 
the  agonies  of  the  sun,  whence  sprung  man's  race  and 
the  cattle,  whence  rain-water  and  fire ;  of  Arcturus 
and  the  showery  Hyades,  and  the  twin  Bears  ;  why  the 
winter  suns  make  such  haste  to  dip  in  ocean,  or  what 
is  the  retarding  cause  that  bids  the  nights  move  slowly. 
Plaudits  redouble  from  the  Tyrians,  and  the  Trojans 


148  THE  JENEID. 

follow  the  lead.  With  varied  talk,  too,  she  kept  length- 
ening out  the  night,  unhappy  Dido,  drinking  draughts 
of  love  long  and  deep,  as  she  asked  much  about  Priam, 
about  Hector  much  ;  now  what  were  the  arms  in  which 
Aurora's  son  had  come  to  battle  ;  now  what  Diomede's 
steeds  were  like  ;  now  how  great  was  Achilles.  '  Or 
rather,  gentle  guest,'  cries  she,  '  tell  us  the  story  from 
the  very  first  —  all  about  the  stratagems  of  the  Dana- 
ans,  and  the  sad  fate  of  your  country,  and  your  own 
wanderings  —  for  this  is  now  the  seventh  summer  that 
is  wafting  you  a  wanderer  still  over  every  land  and 


BOOK  II. 

Every  tongue  was  hushed,  and  every  eye  fixed  in- 
tentlj',  when,  from  his  high  couch,  father  ^neas  began 
thus : — 

'  Too  cruel  to  be  told,  great  queen,  is  the  sorrow  you 
bid  me  revive  —  how  the  power  of  Troy  and  its  empire 
met  with  piteous  overthrow  from  the  Danaans  —  the 
heart-rending  sights  which  my  own  eyes  saw,  and  the 
scenes  where  I  had  a  large  part  to  play.  Who,  in  such 
recital  —  be  he  of  the  Myrmidons  or  the  Dolopes,  or  a 
soldier  of  ruthless  Ulysses'  band  —  would  refrain  from 
tears  ?  And  now,  too,  night  is  rushing  in  dews  down 
the  steep  of  heaven,  and  the  setting  stars  counsel  re- 
pose. Still,  if  so  great  be  your  longing  to  acquaint 
yourself  with  our  disasters,  and  hear  the  brief  tale  of 
Troy's  last  agony,  though  my  mind  shudders  at  the 
remembrance,  and  starts  back  in  sudden  anguish,  I  will 
essay  the  task. 

'  Broken  by  war  and  foiled  by  destiny,  the  chiefs  of 


BOOK  IL  149 

the  Danaans,  now  that  the  flying  years  were  numbering 
so  many,  build  a  horse  of  mountain  size,  by  the  inspira- 
tion of  Pallas'  skill,  and  interlace  its  ribs  with  planks 
of  fir.  A  vow  for  their  safe  journey  home  is  the  pre- 
text :  such  the  fame  that  spreads.  In  this  they  secretly 
enclose  chosen  men  of  sinew,  picked  out  by  lot,  in  the 
depth  of  its  sides,  and  fill  every  corner  of  those  mighty 
caverns,  the  belly  of  the  monster,  with  armed  warriors. 

'  In  sight  of  Troy  lies  Tenedos,  an  island  of  wide- 
spread renown,  powerful  and  rich  while  Priam's  empire 
yet  was,  now  a  mere  bay,  a  treacherous  roadstead  for 
ships.  Thus  far  the}'  sail  out,  and  hide  themselves  on 
the  forsaken  coast.  We  thought  them  gone  off  with  a 
fair  wind  for  Mycenae.  And  so  all  Trojan  land  shakes 
off  the  agony  of  years.  Open  fly  the  gates ;  what 
pleasure  to  go  and  see  the  Dorian  camp,  and  the 
places  deserted,  and  the  shore  forsaken !  Yes,  here 
were  the  troops  of  the  Dolopes  ;  here  the  tent  of  that  sav- 
age Achilles  ;  here  the  ships  were  drawn  up  ;  here  they 
used  to  set  the  battle  in  array.  Some  of  us  are  stand- 
ing agaze  at  the  fatal  offering  to  the  virgin  goddess,  and 
wondering  at  the  hugeness  of  the  horse  ;  and  Thj-mseteS 
takes  the  lead,  urging  to  have  it  dragged  within  the 
walls,  and  lodged  in  the  citadel,  either  with  treasonable 
intent,  or  that  the  fate  of  Troy  had  begun  to  set  that 
way.  But  Cap3's,  and  the  men  of  saner  judgment,  bid 
us  send  this  snare  of  the  Danaans,  this  suspicious  pres- 
ent, "headlong  into  the  sea,  or  light  a  fire  under  and 
burn  it ;  or,  if  not  that,  to  pierce  and  probe  that  hollow 
womb  that  might  hide  so  much.  The  populace,  unstable 
as  ever,  divides  off  into  opposite  factions. 

'  Throwing  himself  before  all,  with  a  great  crowd  at 
his  back,  Laocoon,  all  on  fire,  comes  running  down  the 
steep  of  the  citadel,  crying  in  the  distance,  "What 


150  THE  ^NEID. 

strange  madness  is  this,  my  unhappy  countrymen? 
Think  you  that  the  enemy  has  sailed  off,  or  that  a 
Danaan  could  ever  make  a  present  that  had  no  treach- 
ery in  it  ?  Is  this  your  knowledge  of  Ulysses  ?  Either 
the  Achaeans  are  shut  up  and  hiding  in  this  piece  of 
wood,  or  it  is  an  engine  framed  against  our  walls,  to 
command  the  houses  and  come  down  on  the  city  from 
above,  or  there  is  some  other  secret  trick.  Men  of 
Troy,  put  no  faith  in  the  horse^\  Whatever  it  be,  I 
fear  a  Greek  even  with  a  gift  in  hisjiand.^*  With  these 
words  he  hurled  a  mighty  spear  with  all  his  force  against 
the  beast's  side,  the  jointed  arch  of  its  belly.  It 
lodged,  and  stood  quivering ;  the  womb  shook  again, 
and  an  echo  and  a  groan  rang  hollow  from  its  caverns ; 
and  then,  had  but  heaven's  destiny  and  man's  judgment 
been  un warped,  he  had  led  us  to  carry  sword  and 
haA^oc  into  the  Argive  lurking-place,  and  Troy  would 
now  be  standing,  and  thou,  Priam's  tall  fortress,  still 
in  being. 
yv  '  Meanwhile,  see  !  some  Dardan  shepherds  are  drag- 
^  ging  with  loud  shouts  before  the  king  a  young  man 
with  his  hands  tied  behind  him,  who  had  thrown  him- 
self, a  stranger,  across  their  way,  to  compass  this  very 
thing,  and  thus  let  the  Achaeans  into  Troy  —  bold  of 
heart,  and  ready  for  either  issue,  either  to  play  off  his 
stratagem,  or  to  meet  inevitable  death.  From  all  sides, 
in  eager  curiosit}',  the  Trojan  youth  come  streaming 
round,  vying  in  their  insults  to  the  prisoner.  Now 
then,  listen  to  the  tale  of  Danaan  fraud,  and  from  one 
act  of  guilt  learn  what  the  whole  nation  is.  There  as 
he  stood,  with  all  eyes  bent  on  him,  bewildered,  de- 
fenseless, and  looked  round  on  the  Phr3'gian  bands, 
''  Alas  !  "  he  cries,  "  where  is  there  a  spot  of  earth  or 
sea  that  will  give  me  shelter  now  ?  or  what  last  resource 


BOOK  IL  151 

is  left  for  a  wretch  like  me  —  one  who  has  no  place 
among  the  Danaans  to  hide  my  head  —  while  the  chil- 
dren of  Dardanus  no  less  are  in  arms  against  me,  cry- 
ing for  blood}"  vengeance  ?  "  At  that  piteous  cry  our 
mood  was  changed,  and  every  outrage  checked.  We 
encourage  him  to  speak  —  to  tell  us  what  his  parentage 
is  ;  what  his  business  ;  what  he  has  to  rest  on  as  a  pris- 
oner. "  All,  my  lord,  shall  be  avowed  to  you  truly, 
whatever  be  the  issue.  I  will  not  deny  that  I  am  an 
(^  Argive  by  nation  ;  this  to  begin  with.  Nor  if  Fortune,' 
has  made  a  miserable  man  out  of  Sinon,  shall  her  base 
schooling  make  him  deceiver  and  liar  as  well.  If  haply 
in  talk  your  ears  ever  caught  the  name  of  Palamedes, 
of  the  house  of  Belus,  and  his  wide-spread  renown — ■ 
his,  whom  under  false  accusation,  an  innocent  man, 
charged  by  the  blackest  calumn}^,  all  because  his  voice 
was  against  the  war,  the  Pelasgians  sent  down  to  death, 
and  now,  when  he  is  laid  in  darkness,  lament  him  too 
late  —  know  that  it  was  as  his  comrade  and  near  kins- 
man I  was  sent  by  a  needy  father  to  a  soldier's  life  in 
earliest  youth.  While  he  stood  with  his  ro3"al  state 
unimpaired,  an  honored  member  of  the  kingly  council, 
I,  too,  enjoyed  my  measure  of  name  and  dignity ;  but 
after  the  jealousy  of  false  Ulysses  —  you  know  the  tale 
—  removed  him  from  ^his  upper  clime  —  dashed  from 
my  height,  I  dragged  on  life  in  darkness  and  sorrow, 
and  vented  to  my  own  heart  my  rage  at  the  disaster  of 
my  innocent  friend.  Nor  did  I  keep  silence  —  madman 
that  I  was  !  No,  if  ever  the  chance  were  given  me  — 
if  ever  I  came  back  with  glory  to  my  native  Argos  —  I 
vowed  myself  his  avenger,  and  my  words  stirred  up 
bitter  enmity.  From  that  time  my  ruin  began ;  from 
that  time  Ulysses  was  ever  threatening  me  with  some 
new  charge,  ever  scattering  abroad  words  of  mystery, 


152  THE  jENEID, 

and  looking  for  allies  to  plot  with.  Nor  did  he  rest  till 
by  Calchas'  agency  —  but  why  recall  this  unwelcome 
stor}"  with  no  end  to  gain  ?  Wh}^  waste  your  time,  if 
3"ou  hold  all  Acliseans  alike,  and  to  hear  tliat  is  to  hear 
enough?  Take  the  vengeance  you  should  have  taken 
long  ago.  It  is  just  what  would  please  the  Ithacan, 
and  earn  a  large  reward  from  the  sons  of  Atreus ! " 

'  This  makes  us  burn,  indeed,  to  explore  and  inquire 
into  the  reason  of  his  tale,  not  knowing  that  crime 
'  could  be  so  monstrous,  and  Pelasgian  art  so  cunning. 
He  resumes,  in  faltering  tones,  spoken  from  his  false 
heart :  — 

'  "Often  have  the  Danaans  designed  to  turn  their 
back  on  Troy  and  accomplish  a  retreat,  and  abandon 
the  war  that  had  wearied  them  so  long ;  and  would  they 
bad  done  it !  As  often  has  the  fierce  inclemency  of  the 
deep  barred  their  purpose,  and  the  south  wind  fright- 
ened them  from  sailing.  Especially,  when  this  horse 
was  set  up  at  last,  a  compacted  mass  of  maple  planks, 
the  thunder  of  the  storm-clouds  was  heard  the  whole 
firmament  over.  In  our  perplexity  we  send  Eurypylus 
to  inquire  of  Phoebus's  oracle,  and  this  is  the  gloomy 
message  that  he  brings  back  from  the  shrine ;  '  With 
blood  it  was  3'e  appeased  the  winds,  even  with  a 
maiden's  slaughter,  when  first  ye  came,  Danaans,  to 
the  shore  of  Ilion.  With  blood  it  is  ye  must  buy  your 
return,  and  propitiate  heaven  by  the  Mfe  of  an  Argive  ! ' 
Soon  as  the  news  reached  the  public  ear,  every  mind  was 
cowed,  and  a  cold  shudder  thrilled  the  depths  of  every 
heart.  For  whom  has  Fate  a  summons  ?  Whom  does 
Apollo  demand  as  his  prey?  And  now  the  Ithacan, 
with  boisterous  vehemence,  drags  forward  the  prophet 
Calchas,  insists  on  knowing  what  that  announcement 
of  heaven's  will  may  mean ;  and  many  even  then  were 


BOOK  II.  153 

the  prophetic  mouths  that  warned  me  of  the  trickster's 
cruel  villainy,  and  many  the  eyes  that  silently  foresaw 
the  future.  Ten  days  the  seer  holds  his  peace,  and 
keeps  his  tent,  refusing  to  utter  a  word  that  should  dis- 
close any  name  or  sacrifice  any  life.  At  last,  goaded 
by  the  Ithacan's  vehement  clamor,  he  breaks  into  a  con- 
certed utterance,  and  dooms  me  to  the  altar.  All 
assented,  well  content  that  the  danger  which  each 
feared  for  himself  should  be  directed  to  the  extinction 
of  one  poor  wretch.  And  now  the  day  of  horror  was 
come  ;  all  was  being  ready  for  my  sacrifice  — •  the  salt 
cakes  for  the  fire,  and  the  fillet  to  crown  my  brow — when 
I  escaped,  I  own  it,  from  death,  and  broke  my  bonds, 
and  hid  myself  that  night  in  a  muddy  marsh  in  the 
covert  of  the  rushes,  while  they  should  be  sailing,  in 
the  faint  hope  that  they  had  sailed.  My  old  country, 
I  never  expect  to  see  it  again,  nor  my  darling  children, 
and  the  father  I  have  longed  so  for !  No !  they  are 
likely  to  visit  them  with  vengeance  for  my  escape,  and 
expiate  this  guilt  of  mine  by  taking  their  poor  lives. ' 
O  !  by  the  gods  above,  and  the  powers  that  know  when 
truth  is  spoken,  if  there  is  yet  abiding  anywhere  among 
men  such  a  thing  as  unsullied  faith,  I  conjure  you,  have 
pity  on  this  weight  of  suflering,  have  pity  on  a  soul 
that  is  unworthily  borne  down  !  " 

'  Such  a  tearful  appeal  gains  him  his  life,  and  our 
compassion  too.  Priam  himself  is  first  to  bid  them  re- 
lieve the  man  of  his  manacles  and  the  chains  that  bound 
him,  and  addresses  him  in  words  of  kindness,  ''Who- 
ever you  are,  from  this  time  forth  have  done  with  the 
Greeks,  and  forget  them.  I  make  you  my  man,  and 
bid  you  answer  truly  the  questions  I  shall  put.  What 
do  they  mean  by  setting  up  this  huge  mountain  of  a 
horse?    Who  was  the  prompter  of  it?    What  is  their 


154  °     THE  ^NEID. 

object?  Some  religious  offering,  or  some  engine  of 
war?" 

'  Thus  Priam :  the  prisoner,  with  all  his  Pelasgian 
craft  and  cunning  about  him,  raised  his  unfettered  hands 
to  the  stars  :  — 

'  "You,  eternal  fires,  with  your  inviolable  majesty, 
be  my  witnesses  ;  you,  altars  and  impious  swords,  from 
which  I  fled  ;  and  3'ou,  hallowed  fillets,  which  I  wore 
for  the  sacrifice  !  I  am  free  to  break  all  the  sacred  ties 
that  bound  me  to  the  Greeks.  I  am  free  to  treat  them 
as  m}'  foes,  and  disclose  all  their  secrets  to  the  light  of 
da}',  all  the  claims  of  tlie  land  of  my  birth  notwith- 
standing. Only  do  thou  abide  by  thy  plighted  word, 
and  preserve  faith  with  thy  preserver,  land  of  Troy,  if 
he  tells  thee  true,  and  makes  thee  large  returns. 

'  "  The  strength  of  the  Danaan  hopes,  and  the  soul 
of  their  confidence  in  the  war  they  j^lunged  into,  has 
ever  been  the  aid  of  Pallas.  From  the  time  when 
Tydeus'  impious  son  and  Ulysses,  that  coiner  of  villainy, 
dared  to  drag  away  from  her  hallowed  temple  the  fate- 
ful Palladium,  slaughtering  the  guards  who  watched 
the  citadel's  height,  thenceforth  there  was  an  ebb  and 
a  backsliding  in  the  Danaan  hopes,  their  forces  shat- 
tered, the  goddess  estranged.  Nor  were  the  portents 
dubious  that  betokened  Tritonia*s  change  of  mood. 
Scarce  was  the  image  lodged  in  the  camp,  when  flash- 
ing fire  glowed  in  her  uplifted  eyes,  and  salt  sweat 
trickled  over  her  frame,  and  thrice  of  herself  she  leaped 
from  the  ground,  marvelous  to  relate,  shield  and  quiver- 
ing lance  and  all.  Forthwith  Calchas  sounds  the  note 
for  flight  over  the  perilous  deep,  for  that  Pergamus  can 
never  be  razed  b}'  Argive  steel,  unless  the}^  go  to 
Argos  for  fresh  omens,  and  bring  back  the  divine  aid 
which  their  crooked  keels  bore  with  them  aforetime 


BOOK  IT.  155    tXX^ 


over  the  sea.  And  now  this  their  voyage  home  to 
M3^cen8e  is  to  get  new  forces  and  gods  to  sail  with 
them ;  they  will  recross  the  deep,  and  come  upon  you 
unforeseen.  Such  is  Calchas*  scanning  of  the  omens. 
As  for  this  image,  he  warned  them  to  set  it  up  in  ex- 
change for  the  Palladium,  and,  in  expiation  of  injured 
deity,  to  atone  for  their  fatal  crime.  Calchas,  how- 
ever, bade  them  raise  it  to  the  vast  height  you  see, 
knitting  plank  to  plajik^  till  it  was  brought  near  to 
heaven,  that  it  mightjiotjbe  admitted  at  the  gates  or 
dragged  within  the  walls,  and  thus  restore  to  the  peo- 
ple the  bulwark  of  their  old  worship.  For  if  your 
hand  should  profane  Mhierva's  offering,  then  (said  he) 
a  mighty  destruction  —  ma}"  the  gods  turn  the  omen 
on  his  head  ere  it  falls  on  yours  !  —  would  come  on  the 
empire  of  Priam  and  the  Phrygian  nation  ;  but  if  these 
hands  of  yours  should  help  it  to  scale  yoxxv  city's 
height,  Asia  w^ould  roll  the  mighty  tide  of  invasion 
on  the  walls  of  Pelops,  and  our  posterity  would  have 
to  meet  the  fate  he  threatened." 

'  Such  was  the  stratagem  —  the  cursed  art  of  per- 
jured Sinon  —  that  gained  credence  for  the  tale,;  and 
such  the  victory  won  over  us  by  wiles  and  constrained 
tears  —  over  us,  whom  not  T3^deus'  son,  nor  Achilles 
of  Larissa,  nor  ten  years  of  war  subdued,  nor  a  fleet 
of  a  thousand  sail. 

'  And  now  another  object,  greater  and  far  more  ter- 
rible, is  forced  on  my  poor  countrymen,  to  the  con- 
fusion of  their  unprophetic  souls.  Laocoon,  drawn  by 
lot  as  Neptune's  priest,  was  sacrificing  a  mighty  bull 
at  the  wonted  altar  —  wherT  behold  from  Tenedos, 
over  the  still  deep  —  I  shudder  as  I  recount  the  tale 
—  two  serpents  coiled  in  vast  circles  are  seen  breasting 
the  sea,  and  moving  side  by  side  towards  the  shore. 


156  THE  ^NEID. 

Their  breasts  rise  erect  among  the  waves  ;  their  manes, 
of  blood-red  hue,  tower  over  the  water,  the  rest  of 
them  floats  behind  on  the  main,  trailing  a  huge  undu- 
lating length  ;  the  brine  foams  and  dashes  about  them  ; 
they  are  already  on  shore,  in  the  plain  —  with  their 
glowing  eyes  bloodshot  and  fiery,  and  their  forked 
tongues  pla^'ing  in  their  hissing  mouths.  We  fly  all 
wa^'s  in  pale  terror :  the}',  in  an  unswerving  column, 
make  for  Laocoon,  and  first  each  serpent  folds  round 
one  of  his  two  sons,  clasping  the  youthful  body,  and 
greedily  devouring  the  poor  limbs.  Afterwards,  as 
the  father  comes  to  the  rescue,  weapon  in  hand,  they 
fasten  on  him  and  lash  their  enormous  spires  tight 
round  him  —  and  now  twice  folded  round  his  middle, 
twice  embracing  his  neck  with  their  scal}^  length,  they 
tower  over  him  with  uplifted  head  and  crest.  He  is 
straining  with  agonizing  clutch  to  pull  the  knots 
asunder,  his  priestly  fillets  all  bedewed  with  gore  and 
black  poison,  and  raising  all  the  while  dreadful  cries 
to  heaven  —  like  the  bellowing,  when  a  wounded  bull 
darts  away  from  the  altar,  dashing  off  from  his  neck 
the  ill- aimed  ax.  But  the  two  serpents  escape  glid- 
ingly  to  the  temple  top,  making  for  the  height  where 
ruthless  Tritonia  is  enthroned,  and  there  shelter  them- 
selves under  the  goddess's  feet  and  the  round  of  her 
shield.  Then,  indeed,  every  breast  is  cowed  and 
thrilled  through  by  a  new  and  strange  terror  —  every 
voice  cries  that  Laocoon  has  been  duly  punished  for 
his  crime,  profaning  the  sacred  wood  with  his  weap- 
on's point,  and  hurhng  his  guilty  lance  against  the 
back  of  the  steed.  Let  the  image  be  drawn  to  her 
temple,  and  let  prayer  be  made  to  the  goddess,  is  the 
general  cry  —  we  break  through  the  walls  and  open 
the  town  within.     All  gird  them  to  the  work,  putting 


BOOK  IL  157 

wheels  to  run  easily  under  its  feet,  and  throwing 
lengths  of  hempen  tie  round  its  neck.  It  scales  the 
walls,  that  fateful  engine,  with  its  armed  brood  — 
boys  and  un wedded  girls,  standing  about  it,  chant 
sacred  hymns,  delighted  to  touch  the  rope.  In  it 
moves,  rolling  with  threatening  brow  into  the  heart  of 
the  cit3^  O  my  country  !  O  Ilion,  home  of  the  gods  ! 
O  ye,  Dardan  towers,  with  your  martial  fame !  Yes 
—  four  times  on  the  gateway's  very  threshold  it  stopped, 
four  times  the  arms  rattled  in  its  womb.  On,  however, 
we  press,  unheeding,  in  the  blindness  of  our  frenzy, 
and  lodge  the  ill-starred  portent  in  our  hallowed  cita- 
del. Even  then  Cassandra  unseals  to  speak  of  future 
fate  those  lips  which  by  the  g(fd's  command  no  Trojan 
ever  believed  —  while  we,  alas !  we,  spend  the  day 
that  was  to  be  our  last  in  crowning  the  temples  of  the 
gods  with  festal  boughs  the  whole  city  through. 

'  Meantime  round  rolls  the  sky,  and  on  comes  night 
from  the  ocean,  wrapping  in  its  mighty  shade  earth 
and  heaven  and  Myrmidon  wiles :  through  the  citj' 
the  Trojans  are  hushed  in  careless  repose,  their  tired 
limbs  in  the  arms  of  sleep.  Already  was  the  Argive 
host  on  its  way  from  Tenedos,  through  the  friendly 
stillness  of  the  quiet  moon,  making  for  the  well-known 
shore,  when  see !  the  royal  ship  mounts  its  fire  sig- 
nal, and  Sinon,  Sheltered  by  heaven's  partial  decree, 
stealthily"Set§^  large  the  Danaans,  hid  in  that  treach- 
erous womb,  and  opens  the  pine- wood  door :  they  as 
the  horse  opens  are  restored  to  upper  air,  and  leap 
forth  with  jo}^  from  the  hollow  timber,  Thessander 
and  Sthenelus  leading  the  way,  and  the  dreaded  Ulys- 
ses, gliding  down  the  lowered  rope,  and  Achamas  and 
Thoas,  and  Neoptolemus  of  Peleus'  line,  and  first 
Machaon,  and  Menelaus,  and  the  framer  of  the  cheat 


158  THE  uENEID. 

himself,  Epeus.  They  rush  on  the  town  as  it  lies 
drowned  in  sleep  and  revelr3\  The  watchers  are  put 
to  the  sword,  the  gates  thrown  open,  and  all  are  wel- 
coming their  comrades,  and  uniting  with  the  conspiring 
bands. 

'  It  was  just  the  time  when  first  slumber  comes  to 
heal  human  suffering,  stealing  on  men  by  heaven's 
blessing  with  balmiest  influence.  Lo  !  as  I  slept,  before 
my  eyes  Hector,  in  deepest  sorrow,  seemed  to  be  stand- 
ing by  me,  shedding  rivers  of  tears  —  mangled  from 
dragging  at  the  car,  as  I  remember  him  of  old,  and 
black  with  gory  dust,  and  with  his  swollen  feet  bored 
by  the  thong.  Ay  me  !  what  a  sight  was  there  !  what 
a  change  from  that  Hector  of  ours,  who  comes  back  to 
us  clad  in  the  spoils  of  Achilles,  or  from  hurling  Phry- 
gian fire  on  Danaan  vessels  !  with  stiffened  beard  and 
hair  matted  with  blood,  and  those  wounds  fresh  about 
him,  which  fell  on  him  so  thickly  round  his  country's 
walls.  Methought  I  addressed  him  first  with  tears  like 
his  own,  fetching  from  my  breast  the  accents  of  sorrow 
—  "  O  light.of  Dardan  land,  surest  hope  that  Trojans 
ever  had  !  What  dela}"  has  kept  you  so  long  ?  From 
what  clime  is  the  Hector  of  our  longings  returned  to  us 
at  last?  O  the  ej'es  with  which,  after  long  months  of 
death  among  your  people,  months  of  manifold  suffering 
to  Troj^  and  her  sons,  spent  and  weary,  we  look  upon 
you  now  !  What  unworth}'  cause  has  marred  the  clear 
beauty  of  those  features,  or  why  do  I  behold  these 
wounds  ?  "  He  answers  naught,  and  gives  no  idle  heed 
to  my  vain  inquiries,  but  with  a  deep  sigh,  heaved  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  —  "  Ah  !  fly,  goddess-born  !  " 
cries  he,  "and  escape  from  these  flames  —  the  walls 
are  in  the  enemy's  hand  —  Troy  is  tumbling  from  its 
summit  —  the  claims  of  country  and  king  are  satisfied 


BOOK  IL  159 

—  if  Pergamus  could  be  defended  by  force  of  hand,  it 
would  have  been  defended  by  mine,  in  my  day.     Your 
country's  worship  and  her  _gods  are  what  she  intrusts     j 
to  you  now  —  take  them  to  share  your  destin}^  —  seek     / 
for  them  a  mighty  city,  which  you  shall  one  day  build    / 
when  you  have  wandered  the  ocean  over."     With  these   ' 
words  he  brings  out  Queen  Vesta  with  her  fillets  and 
the  ever-burning  fire  from  the  secret  shrine. 

'  Meanwhile  the  city  in  its  various  quarters  is  being 
convulsed  with  agony  —  and  ever  more  and  more, 
though  mj^  father  Anchises'  palace  was  retired  in  the 
privacy  of  embosoming  trees,  the  sounds  deepen,  and 
the  alarm  of  battle  swells.  I  start  up  from  sleep,  mount 
the  sloping  roof,  and  stand  intently  listening  —  even 
as  when  among  standing  corn  a  spark  falls  with  a  fierce 
south  wind  to  fan  it,  or  the  impetuous  stream  of  a 
mountain  torrent  sweeps  the  fields,  sweeps  the  joyous 
crops  and  the  bullocks'  toil,  and  drives  the  woods 
headlong  before  it,  in  perplexed  amazement  a  shep- 
herd takes  in  the  crash  from  a  rock's  tall  summit. 
Then,  indeed,  all  doubt  was  over,  and  the  wiles  of  the 
Danaans  stood  confessed.  Alreadj-  Deiphobus'  palace 
has  fallen  with  a  mighty  overthrow  before  the  master- 
ing fire-god  —  already  his  neighbor  Ucalegon  is  in 
flames  —  the  expanse  of  the  Sigean  sea  shines  again 
with  the  blaze.  Up  rises  at  once  the  shouting  of  men 
and  the  braying  of  trumpets.  To  arms  I  rush  in 
frenz}^  —  not  that  good  cause  is  shown  for  arms  —  but 
to  muster  a  troop  for  fight,  and  run  to  the  citadel  with 
my  comrades  is  m}^  first  burning  impulse  —  madness 
and  rage  drive  my  mind  headlong,  and  I  think  how 
glorious  to  die  with  arms  in  my  hand. 

'  But  see  !  Panthus,  escaped  from  an  Achaean  vollej'. 
Pan  thus,  Othrys'  son,  priest  of  Phoebus  in  the  citadel, 


160  THE  JENEID. 

comes  dragging  along  with  his  own  hand  the  van- 
quished gods  of  his  worship  and  his  young  grandchild, 
and  making  distractedly  for  my  door.  "  How  goes  the 
day,  Panthus  ?  What  hold  have  we  of  the  citadel  ?  " 
The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  when  with  a  groan  he 
replies,  *'It  is  come,  the  last  da}^,  the  inevitable  hour 
—  on  Dardan  land  no  more  Trojans  ;  no  more  of  lUon, 
and  the  great  renown  of  the  sons  of  Teucer ;  Jove,  in 
his  cruelty,  has  carried  all  over  to  Argos  ;  the  town  is 
on  fire,  and  the  Danaans  are  its  masters.  There,  plant- 
ed high  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  the  horse  is  pouring 
out  armed  men,  and  Sinon  is  flinging  about  fire  in  the 
insolence  of  conquest;  some  are  crowding  into  the 
unfolded  gates  —  thousands,  many  as  ever  came  from 
huge  Mycenae  ;  some  are  blocking  up  the  narrow 
streets,  with  weapons  pointed  at  all  comers  ;  the  sharp 
steel  with  its  gleaming  blade  stands  drawn,  ready  for 
slaughter ;  hardly,  even  on  the  threshold,  the  sentinels 
of  the  gates  are  attempting  resistance,  in  a  struggle 
where  the  powers  of  war  are  Wind." 

*  At  these  words  of  the  son  of  Othrys,  and  heaven's 
will  thus  expressed,  I  plunge  into  the  fire  and  the 
battle,  following  the  war-fiend's  3^ell,  the  din  of  strife, 
and  the  shout  that  rose  to  the  sky.  There  join  me 
Rhipeus  and  Epj^tus,  bravest  in  fight,  crossing  my  way 
in  the  moonlight,  as  also  Hypanis  and  Dymas,  and 
form  at  my  side  ;  3'oung  Coroebus,  too,  Mygdon's  son  ; 
he  happened  to  be  just  then  come  to  Troy,  with  a  fran- 
tic passion  for  Cassandra,  and  was  bringing  a  son-in- 
law's  aid  to  Priam  and  his  Phrj'gians  —  poor  boy !  to 
have  given  no  heed  to  the  warning  of  his  heaven-struck 
bride  !  Seeing  them  gathered  in  a  mass  and  nerved  for 
battle,  I  begin  thereon  :  —  "  Young  hearts,  full  of  una- 
vailing valor,  if  your  desire  is  set  to  follow  a  desperate 


BOOK  II,  161 

man,  3^011  see  what  the  plight  of  our  affairs  is  —  gone 
in  a  body  from  shrine  and  altar  are  the  gods  who  up- 
held this  our  empire  —  the  citj^  you  succor  is  a  blazing 
ruin  ;  choose  we  then  death,  and  rush  we  into  the  thick 
of  the  fight.  The  one  safety  for  vanquished  men  is  to 
hope  for  none."  These  words  stirred  their  3'oung  spir- 
its to  madness :  then,  like  ravenous  wolves  in  night's 
dark  cloud,  driven  abroad  by  the  blind  rage  of  lawless 
hunger,  with  their  cubs  left  at  home  waiting  their  re- 
turn with  parched  jaws,  among  javelins,  among  foe- 
men,  on  we  go  with  no  uncertain  fate  before  us,  keep- 
ing our  way  through  the  heart  of  the  town,  while  night 
flaps  over  us  its  dark,  overshadowing  wings.  Who 
could  unfold  in  speech  the  carnage,  the  horrors  of  that 
night,  or  make  his  tears  keep  pace  with  our  suffering? 
It  is  an  ancient  cit}*,  falling  from  the  height  where  she 
queened  it  many  a  year;  and  heaps  of  unresisting 
bodies  are  Ij'ing  confusedly  in  the  streets,  in  the 
houses,  on  the  hallowed  steps  of  temples.  Nor  is  it 
on  Teucer's  sons  alone  that  blood^^  vengeance  lights. 
There  are  times  when  even  the  vanquished  feel  courage 
rushing  back  to  their  hearts,  and  the  conquering  Dana- 
ans  fall.  Everywhere  is  relentless  agony  ;  everj'where 
terror,  and  the  vision  of  death  in  many  a  manifestation. 
'  First  of  the  Danaans,  with  a  large  band  at  his  back, 
Androgeos  crosses  our  way,  taking  us  for  a  troop  of 
bis  friends  in  his  ignorance,  and  hails  us  at  once  in 
w^ords  of  fellowship:  "Come,  m^^  men,  be  quick. 
Whj',  what  sloth  is  keeping  3'ou  so  late  ?  Pergamus  is 
on  fire,  and  the  rest  of  us  are  spoiling  and  sacking 
it,  and  here  are  you,  but  just  disembarked  from  your 
tall  ships."  He  said,  and  instantly,  for  no  reply  was 
forthcoming  to  reassure  him,  saw  that  he  had  fallen 
into  the  thick  of  the  enemy.  Struck  with  consternation, 
11 


162  THE  ^NEID. 

he  drew  back  foot  and  tongue.  Just  as  a  man  who  at 
unawares  has  trodden  on  a  snake  among  thorns  and 
briers  in  his  walk,  and  recoils  at  once  in  sudden  alarm 
from  the  angry  uplifted  crest  and  the  black  swelling 
neck,  so  Androgeos,  appalled  at  the  sight,  was  retir- 
ing. But  we  rush  on  him,  and  close  round,  weapons  in 
hand  ;  and,  in  their  ignorance  of  the  ground,  and  the 
surprise  of  their  terror,  they  fall  before  us  everywhere. 
Fortune  smiles  on  our  first  encounter.  Hereon  Coroe- 
bus,  flushed  with  success  and  daring,  "  Come,  my 
friends,"  he  cries,  "  where  Fortune  at  starting  directs 
us  to  the  path  of  safety,  and  reveals  herself  as  our  ally, 
be  it  ours  to  follow  on.  Let  us  change  shields,  and  see 
if  Danaan  decorations  will  fit  us.  Trick  or  strength  of 
hand,  who,  in  dealing  with  an  enemy,  asks  which? 
Thej^  shall  arm  us  against  themselves."  So  saying,  he 
puts  on  Androgeos'  crested  helm,  and  his  shield  with 
its  goodlj^  device,  and  fastens  to  his  side  an  Argive 
sword.  So  does  Rhipeus,  so  Dymas  too,  and  all  our 
company,  with  youthful  exultation,  each  arming  him- 
self out  of  the  new- won  spoils.  On  we  go,  mixing 
with  the  Greeks,  under  auspices  not  our  own,  and 
many  are  the  combats  in  which  we  engage  in  the  blind- 
ness of  night,  many  the  Danaans  whom  we  send  down 
to  the  shades.  They  fly  on  all  hands :  some  to  the 
ships,  making  at  full  speed  for  safety  on  the  shore ; 
others,  in  the  debasement  of  terror,  climb  once  more 
the  horse's  huge  sides,  and  hide  (hemselves  in  the 
womb  they  knew  so  well. 

'  Alas !  it  is  not  for  man  to  throw  himself  on  the 
gods  against  their  will ! 

'  Lo !  there  was  a  princess  of  Priam's  house  being 
dragged  by  her  disheveled  hair  from  the  temple,  from 
the  very  shrine  of  Minerva,  Cassandra,  straining  her 


BOOK  II.  163 

flashing  eyes  to  heaven  in  vain  —  her  eyes  —  for  those 
delicate  hands  were  confined  by  manacles.  The  sight 
was  too  much  for  the  infuriate  mind  of  Coroebus  :  rush- 
ing to  his  doom,  he  flung  himself  into  the  middle  of  the 
hostile  force.  One  and  all,  we  follow,  close  our  ranks, 
and  fall  on.  And  now,  first  from  the  temple's  lofty  top 
we  are  overwhelmed  by  a  shower  of  our  own  country- 
men's darts,  and  a  most  piteous  carnage  ensues,  all 
along  of  the  appearance  of  our  arms  and  our  mistaken 
Grecian  crests.  Then  the  Danaans,  groaning  and  en- 
raged at  the  rescue  of  the  maiden,  rally  from  all  sides, 
and  fall  on  us.  Ajax,  in  all  his  fury,  and  the  two  sons 
of  Atreus,  and  the  whole  array  of  the  Dolopes  —  even 
as  one  day  when  the  tempest  is  broken  loose,  and  wind 
meets  wind  — west,  and  south,  and  east  exulting  in  his 
orient  steeds  —  there  is  crashing  in  the  woods,  and  Ne- 
reus,  in  a  cloud  of  foam,  is  plying  his  ruthless  trident, 
and  stirring  up  the  sea  from  its  very  bottom.  Such  of 
the  foe,  moreover,  as  in  the  darkness  of  night  we  had 
driven  routed  through  the  gloom  —  thanks  to  our  strat- 
agem —  and  scattered  the  whole  city  over,  rally  again : 
the}^  are  the  first  to  recognize  the  imposture  of  shield 
and  weapon,  and  to  mark  the  different  sound  of  our 
speech.  All  is  over  —  we  are  overwhelmed  by  num- 
bers :  first  of  all  Coroebus  is  stretched  low  ;  his  slayer 
Peneleos,  his  place  of  death  the  altar  of  the  Goddess  of 
Arms ;  slain,  too,  is  Rhipeus,  the  justest  and  most 
righteous  man  in  Troy  —  but  Heaven's  will  is  not  ours 
—  down  go  Hypanis  and  Dymas  both,  shot  by  their 
friends ;  nor  could  all  your  acts  of  piety,  good  Pan- 
thus,  shield  you  in  your  fall ;  no,  nor  the  fillet  of  Apollo 
on  3^our  brow.  Ye  ashes  of  Ilion,  and  thou,  funeral 
fire  of  those  I  loved,  witness  ye  that  in  your  day  of 
doom  I  shrank  from  no  Danaan  dart,  no  hand-to-hand 


164  THE  jENEID. 

encounter;  nay,  that  had  my  fate  been  to  fall,  my 
hand  had  earned  it  well.  We  are  parted  from  the  rest, 
Iphitus,  Pelias,  and  I.  Iphitus,  a  man  on  whom  j^ears 
were  already  pressing ;  Pelias,  crippled  by  a  wound 
from  Ulysses  —  all  three  summoned  by  the  shouting  to 
Priam's  palace. 

'  Here,  indeed,  the  conflict  was  gigantic — just  as  if 
the  rest  of  the  war  were  nowhere  —  as  if  none  were 
dying  in  the  whole  city  beside  :  even  such  was  the  sight 
we  saw  —  the  war-god  raging  untamed,  the  Danaans 
streaming  up  to  the  roof,  the  door  blockaded  by  a  long 
penthouse  of  shields.  The  scaling-ladders  are  clasp- 
ing the  walls  ;  close  to  the  ver}'  door  men  are  climbing, 
with  their  left  hands  presenting  the  buckler  to  shelter 
them  from  darts,  while  with  their  right  they  are  clasp- 
ing the  battlements.  The  Dardans,  on  their  part,  are 
tearing  up  from  the  palace  turret  and  roof —  such  the 
weapons  with  which,  in  their  dire  extremity,  in  the  last 
death-struggle,  they  make  ready  for  their  defense  — 
gilded  rafters,  the  stately  ornaments  of  elder  days, 
the}'  are  hurling  down ;  while  others,  their  swords 
drawn,  are  stationed  at  the  doors  at  the  bottom,  and 
guarding  them  in  close  array.  The  fire  revived  within 
me,  to  bring  succor  to  the  ro3'al  roof,  and  relieve 
those  brave  men,  and  breathe  new  daring  into  the  van- 
quished. 

'  A  door  there  was,  a  hidden  entrance,  a  thorough- 
fare through  Priam's  palace,  a  postern  which  you  leave 
in  the  rear;  by  it  the  hapless  Andromache,  while  yet 
the  throne  was  standing,  used  often  to  repair  unat- 
tended to  her  husband's  parents,  and  pull  the  boy  As- 
tyanax  into  his  grandsire's  presence.  Through  it  I 
make  my  waj^  to  the  summit  of  the  roof,  whence  the 
wretched  Teucrians  were  hurling  darts  without  avail. 


BOOK  IL  165 

There  was  a  tower  standing  precipitous,  its  roof  reajjed 
.high  to  the  stars,  whence  could  be  seen  all  Troy,  and 
the  Danaan  fleet,  and  the  Achaean  camp ;  to  this  we 
applied  our  weapons,  just  where  the  loft}'  flooring  made 
the  joining  insecure  ;  we  wrench  it  from  its  eminence, 
we  have  toppled  it  over — down  it  falls  at  once,  a 
liuge  crashing  ruin,  and  tumbles  far  and  wide  over  the 
Danaan  ranks.  But  others  fill  their  place  ;  while  stones 
and  every  kind  of  missile  keep  raining  unabated. 

'  There  in  the  entry,  at  the  very  gate,  is  Pyrrhus  in) 
his  glor}^,  gleaming  with  spear  and  sword,  and  with  all 
the  brilliance  of  steel.  Even  as  against  the  daylight  a 
serpent  gorged  with  baleful  herbage,  whom  winter's 
cold  of  late  was  keeping  swollen  underground.  Now, 
his  skin  shed,  in  new  life  and  in  the  beauty  of  youth, 
rears  his  breast  erect,  and  wreathes  his  shining  scales, 
towering  to  the  sun,  and  flashes  in  his  mouth  his  three- 
forked  tongue.  With  him  gigantic  Periphas  and  Au- 
tomedon,  his  armor-bearer,  once  Achilles'  charioteer, 
with  him  the  whole  chivalry  of  Scyros  press  to  the  walls, 
and  hurl  up  fire  to  the  roof.  Himself  among  the  fore- 
most, a  two-edged  ax  in  hand,  is  bursting  through  the 
stubborn  door  and  forcing  from  their  hinges  the  valves 
copper-sheathed  ;  see  !  now  he  has  cut  out  a  plank  and 
delved  into  that  stout  heart  of  oak,  and  made  a  wide 
gaping  window  in  the  middle.  There  is  seen  the  house 
within,  and  the  long  vista  of  the  hall ;  there  is  seen  the 
august  retirement  of  Priam,  and  the  monarchs  of  past 
da3's,  and  armed  warriors  are  disclosed  standing  in  the 
entrance. 

'  But  the  palace  within  is  a  confused  scene  of  shriek- 
ing and  piteous  disorder ;  the  vaulted  chambers  wail 
from  their  hollow  depths  with  female  lamentation  ;  the 
noise   strikes   the  golden   stars   above.      The   terror- 


166  THE  AlNEID. 

stricken  matrons  are  running  to  and  fro  through  the 
spacious  courts,  cHnging  claspinglj-  to  the  gates  and 
printing  them  with  kisses.  On  presses  Pyrrhus  with 
all  his  father's  might ;  neither  barrier  of  oak  nor  yet 
living  guard  can  resist  him  ;  the  door  gives  way  under 
the  thick  strokes  of  the  battery,  and  the  valves  are 
torn  from  their  hinges  and  brought  down.  Force  finds 
its  Yfdij ;  the  Danaans  burst  a  passage,  rush  in,  and 
slaughter  those  they  meet,  and  the  whole  wide  space  is 
flooded  with  soldiers.  With  far  less  fury,  when  the 
river,  all  foam,  has  broken  the  prison  of  its  banks  and 
streamed  with  triumphant  tide  over  the  barriers  set  to 
check  it,  down  it  comes  tumbhng  along  the  corn-fields, 
and  along  the  whole  country  sweeps  away  herd  and 
stall.  With  my  own  eyes  I.  saw  Neoptolemus,  mad 
with  carnage,  and  the  two  Atridse  on  the  palace-floor. 
I  saw  Hecuba  and  her  hundred  daughters-in-law,  and 
Priam  at  the  altar,  polluting  with  his  blood  the  flames 
he  had  himself  made  hol}^  Those  fift}'  marriage- 
chambers,  the  splendid  promise  of  children's  children, 
doors  gorgeous  with  barbaric  gold  and  plundered  treas- 
ure, all  sank  in  dust.  Where  the  fire  flags,  the  Danaans 
are  masters. 

'  Perhaps,  too,  you  may  be  curious  to  hear  the  fate 
of  Priam.  When  he  saw  his  city  fallen  and  captured, 
the  doors  of  his  palace  burst  open,  the  foe  in  the  heart 
of  his  home's  sanctuar}",  poor  old  man !  helplessly  and 
hopelessly  he  puts  about  his  shoulders,  trembling  with 
age,  his  armor,  long  disused,  and  girds  on  his  unavail- 
ing sword,  and  is  going  to  his  doom  among  the  thick  of 
the  foe.  In  the  midst  of  the  palace,  under  the  naked 
height  of  the  sk}^,  stood  a  great  altar,  and  by  it  a  ba}-- 
tree  of  age  untold,  leaning  over  the  altar  and  enfolding 
the  household  gods  in  its  shade.     Here  about  the  altar 


BOOK  II.  167 

Hecuba  and  her  daughters,  all  helpless,  like  doves 
driven  headlong  down  by  a  murky  tempest,  huddled 
together  and  clinging  to  the  statues  of  the  gods,  were 
sitting.  But  when  she  saw  Priam  —  yes,  Priam  — 
wearing  the  arms  of  his  youth  —  "What  monstrous 
thought,"  cries  she,  "  my  most  wretched  spouse,  has 
moved  you  to  gird  on  these  weapons  ?  or  to  what  are 
you  hurrying  ?  It  is  not  help  like  this,  nor  protections 
like  those  you  wear,  that  the  crisis  needs.  No,  not 
even  if  m}"  lost  Hector  were  now  at  our  side.  Come, 
join  us  here  at  last ;  this  altar  shall  be  a  defense  for  us 
all,  or  we  will  die  together."  With  these  words  she 
took  him  to  where  she  was,  and  lodged  his  aged  frame 
in  the  hallowed  resting-place. 

'  But,  see !  here  is  Polites,  one  of  Priam's  sons  es- 
caped from  Pyrrhus*  murderous  hand,  through  showers 
of  darts  and  masses  of  foemen,  flying  down  the  long 
corridors  and  traversing  the  empty  courts,  sore  and 
wounded,  while  Pyrrhus,  all  on  fire,  is  pursuing  hiin 
with  a  deadly  stroke,  his  hand  all  but  grasping  him,  his 
spear  close  upon  him.  Just  as  at  last  he  won  his  way 
into  the  view  and  presence  of  his  parents,  down  he  fell 
and  poured  out  his  life  in  a  gush  of  blood.  Hereon 
Priam,  though  hemmed  in  b}-  death  on  all  sides,  could 
not  restrain  himself,  or  control  voice  and  passion. 
"  Aye,"  cries  he,  "  for  a  crime,  for  an  outrage  like  this, 
ma3^  the  gods,  if  there  is  any  sense  of  right  in  heaven 
to  take  cognizance  of  such  deeds,  give  you  the  full 
thanks  you  merit,  and  pay  you  ^'^our  due  reward ;  you, 
who  have  made  me  look  with  my  own  ej'es  on  my  son's 
death,  and  stained  a  father's  presence  with  the  sight  of 
blood.  But  he  whom  3  our  lying  tongue  calls  your  sire, 
Achilles,  dealt  not  thus  with  Priam  his  foe  —  he  had 
a  cheek  that  could  crimson  at  a  suppliant's  rights,  a 


yAiW 


168  THE  ^NEID, 

suppliant's  honor.  Hector's  lifeless  body  he  gave  back 
to  the  tomb,  and  sent  me  home  to  my  realms  in  peace." 
So  said  the  poor  old  man,  and  hurled  at  him  a  dart  un- 
warlike,  unwound ing,  which  the  ringing  brass  at  once 
shook  off,  and  left  hanging  helplessly  from  the  end  of 
the  shield's  boss.  PjTrhus  retorts:  ''You  shall  take 
your  complaint,  then,  and  carry  3"our  news  to  my  father, 
Pelides.  Tell  him  about  my  shocking  deeds,  about  his 
degenerate  Neoptolemus,  and  do  not  forget.  Now 
die."  With  these  words  he  dragged  him  to  the  very 
altar,  palsied  and  sliding  in  a  pool  of  his  son's  blood, 
wreathed  his  left  hand  in  his  hair,  and  with  his  right 
flashed  forth  and  sheathed  in  his  side  the  sword  to  the 
hilt.  Such  was  the  end  of  Priam's  fortunes,  such 
the  fatal  lot  that  fell  upon  him,  with  Troy  blazing  and 
Pergamus  in  ruins  before  his  eyes  —  upon  him,  once  the 
haught}^  ruler  of  those  many  nations  and  kingdoms,  the 
sovereign  lord  of  Asia !  There  he  lies  on  the  shore,  a 
gigantic  trunk,  a  head  severed  from  the  shoulders,  a 
body  without  a  name. 

*  Now,  for  the  first  time  grim  horror  prisoned  me 
round  —  I  was  wildered  —  there  rose  up  the  image  of 
mj'  dear  father,  as  I  saw  the  king,  his  fellow  in  age, 
breathing  out  his  life  through  that  ghastly  wound. 
There  rose  up  Creusa  unprotected,  my  house,  now 
plundered,  and  the  chance  to  which  I  had  left  my  little 
lulus.  I  cast  my  ej^es  back  and  look  about  to  see  what 
strength  there  is  round  me.  All  had  forsaken  me,  too 
tired  to  stay  ;  they  had  leapt  to  the  ground,  or  dropped 
helplessly  into  the  flames.  And  now  I  was  there  alone. 
When  lodged  in  the  temple  of  Vesta,  and  crouching 
mutely  in  its  darkest  recess,  the  daughter  of  Tyndareus 
meets  ray  eye  ;  the  brilliant  blaze  gives  light  to  my 
wandering  feet  and  ranging  glance.     Yes,  she  in  her 


BOOK  11.  169 

guilty  fears,  dreading  at  once  the  Teucrians  whom  the 
overthrow  of  Perganius  had  made  her  foes,  and  the 
vengeance  of  the  Danaans,  and  the  wrath  of  the  hus- 
band she  abandoned  —  she,  the  common  fiend  of  Troy 
and  of  her  countrj^,  had  hid  herself  away,  and  was 
sitting  in  hateful  solitude  at  the  altar.  My  spirit  kin- 
dled into  flame  —  a  fury  seized  me  to  avenge  my  country 
in  its  fall,  and  to  do  justice  on  a  wretch.  "  So  she  is 
to  see  Sparta  and  her  native  M3Tenae  again  in  safety, 
and  is  to  move  as  a  queen  in  a  triumph  of  her  own  ? 
She  is  to  look  upon  her  lord  and  her  old  home,  her 
children  and  her  parents,  with  a  crowd  of  our  Trojan 
ladies  and  Phrygian  captives  to  wait  on  her?  Shall  it 
be  for  this  that  Priam  has  died  bj'  the  sword,  that  Troy 
has  been  burnt  with  fire,  that  the  Dardan  shore  has 
gushed  so  oft  with  the  sweat  of  blood  ?  No,  never  — 
for  though  there  are  no  proud  memories  to  be  won  by 
vengeance  on  a  woman,  no  laurels  to  be  reaped  from  a 
conquest  like  this,  yet  the  extinction  of  so  base  a  life 
and  the  exaction  of  vengeance  so  merited  will  count  as 
a  praise,  and  it  will  be  a  joy  to  have  glutted  my  spirit 
with  the  flame  of  revenge  and  slaked  the  thirsty  ashes 
of  those  I  love."  Such  were  the  wild  words  I  was  ut- 
tering, such  the  impulse  of  my  infuriate  heart,  when 
suddenly  there  appeared  to  me,  brighter  than  I  had 
ever  seen  her  before,  and  shone  forth  in  clear  radiance 
through  the  night,  my  gracious  mother,  all  her  deity 
confessed,  with  the  same  mien  and  stature  by  which  she 
is  known  to  the  dwellers  in  heaven.  She  seized  me  by 
the  hand  and  stayed  me,  seconding  her  action  with 
these  words  from  her  roseate  lips:  -'M}^  son,  what 
might}^  agon}^  is  it  that  stirs  up  this  untamed  passion? 
What  means  your  frenzy  ?  or  whither  has  fled  your  care 
for  me  ?    Will  you  not  first  see  where  you  have  left 


170  THE  yENEID. 

your  father  Anchises,  spent  with  age  as  he  is?  whether 
your  wife,  Creusa,  be  yet  alive,  and  your  child  Asca- 
nius  ?  All  about  them  the  Grecian  armies  are  ranging 
to  and  fro,  and  were  not  my  care  exerted  to  rescue 
them,  ere  this  they  had  been  snatched  by  the  flame, 
devoured  by  the  foeman's  sword.  It  is  not  the  hated 
beauty  of  the  daughter  of  Tyndareus,  the  Spartan 
woman  —  not  the  reviled  Paris.  No,  it  is  heaven,  un- 
pitying  heaven  that  is  overturning  this  great  empire 
and  leveling  Tro}^  from  its  summit.  See  here  —  for  I 
will  take  away  wholly  the  cloud  whose  veil,  cast  over 
your  eyes-,  dulls  3'our  mortal  vision  and  darkles  round 
3  ou  damp  and  thick  —  do  you  on  your  part  shrink  in 
naught  from  3'our  mother's  commands,  nor  refuse  to 
obey  the  instructions  she  gives.  Here,  where  3'ou  see 
huge  masses  rent  asunder,  and  stones  wrenched  from 
stones,  and  blended  torrents  of  smoke  and  dust,  is 
Neptune  with  his  mighty  trident  shaking  the  walls  and 
upheaving  the  very  foundations  ;  here  is  Juno,  crudest 
of  foes,  posted  at  the  entry  of  the  Scsean  gate,  and 
summoning  in  tones  of  fury  from  the  ships  her  confed- 
erate band,  herself  girt  with  steel  like  them.  Look 
behind  you  —  there  is  Tritonian  Pallas,  seated  already 
on  the  summit  of  our  towers,  in  the  lurid  glare  of  her 
storm-cloud  and  grim  Gorgon's  head.  The  great  Fa- 
ther himself  is  nerving  the  Danaans  with  courage  and 
strength  for  victory  —  himself  leading  the  gods  against 
our  Dardan  forces.  Come,  my  son,  catch  at  flight 
while  you  may  and  bring  the  struggle  to  an  end.  I 
will  not  leave  you,  till  I  have  set  you  in  safet}'  at  j^our 
father's  door."  She  had  ceased,  and  veiled  herself  at 
once  in  night's  thickest  shadows.  I  see  a  vision  of 
awful  shapes  —  mighty  presences  of  gods  arrayed 
against  Troy. 


BOOK  11.  171 

'Then,  indeed,  I  beheld  all  Ilion  sinking  into  flame, 
and  Neptune's  city,  Troy,  overturned  from  its  base. 
Even  as  an  ancient  ash  on  the  mountain-top,  which 
woodmen  have  hacked  with  steel  and  repeated  hatchet 
strokes,  and  are  trjdng  might  and  main  to  dislodge  — 
it  keeps  nodding  menacingly,  its  leafy  head  palsied  and 
shaken,  till  at  last,  gradually  overborne  hj  wound  after 
wound,  it  has  given  its  death-groan,  and  fallen  uprooted 
in  ruined  length  along  the  hill.  I  come  down,  and,  fol- 
lowing my  heavenly  guide,  thread  my  way  through 
flames  and  foemen,  while  weapons  glance  aside  and 
flames  retire. 

'  Now  when  at  last  I  had  reached  the  door  of  my 
father's  house,  that  old  house  I  knew  so  well,  my  sire, 
whom  it  was  my  first  resolve  to  carry  away  high  up  the 
hills  —  who  was  the  first  object  I  sought  —  refuses  to 
survive  the  razing  of  Tro}'  and  submit  to  banishment. 
"  You,  whose  young  blood  is  untainted,  whose  strength 
is  firmly  based  and  self-sustained,  it  is  for  you  to  think 
of  flight.  For  me,  had  the  dwellers  in  heaven  willed 
me  to  prolong  my  life,  they  would  have  preserved  for 
me  my  home.  It  is  enough  and  more  than  enough  to 
have  witnessed  one  sack,  to  have  once  outlived  the 
capture  of  my  cit}'.  Here,  O  here  as  I  lie,  bid  fare- 
well to  my  corpse  and  begone.  I  will  find  me  a  war- 
rior's death.  The  enemy  wall  have  mercy  on  me,  and 
my  spoils  will  tempt  him.  The  loss  of  a  toftib  will  fall 
on  me  lightl}^  Long,  long  have  I  been  a  clog  on  time, 
hated  of  heaven  and  useless  to  earth,  from  the  day 
when  the  father  of  gods  and  sovereign  of  men  blasted 
me  with  the  wind  of  his  lightning,  and  laid  on  me  the 
finger  of  flame." 

'  Such  the  words  he  kept  on  repeating  and  continued 
unshaken,  while  we  were  shedding  our  hearts  in  teai's 


172  THE  ^NEID. 

—  Creusa,  my  wife,  and  Ascanius  and  my  whole  house, 
imploring  my  father  not  to  be  bent  on  dragging  all  with 
him  to  ruin,  and  lending  his  weight  to  the  avalanche  of 
destiny.  But  he  refuses,  and  will  not  be  moved  from 
his  purpose  or  his  horfe.  Once  more  I  am  plunging  into 
battle,  and  choosing  death  in  the  agony  of  my  wretch- 
edness—  for  what  could  wisdom  or  fortune  do  for  me 
now?  What,  my  father?  that  I  could  stir  a  step  to 
escape,  leaving  you  behind  ?  was  this  3'our  expectation  ? 
could  aught  so  shocking  fall  from  a  parent's  lips  ?     No 

—  if  it  is  the  will  of  heaven  that  naught  of  this  might}' 
cit}'  should  be  spared  —  if  3"0ur  purpose  is  fixed,  and 
you  find  pleasure  in  throwing  j'ourself  and  yours  on 
Troy's  blazing  pile,  the  door  stands  open  for  the  death 
you  crave.  P^'rrhus  will  be  here  in  a  moment,  fresh 
from  bathing  in  Priam's  blood  —  P3'rrhus,  who  butch- 
ers the  son  before  the  father's  face,  who  butchers  the 
father  at  the  altar.  Gracious  Mother  I  was  it  for  this 
that  thou  rescuest  me  from  fire  and  sword  —  all  that  I 
ma}'  see  the  foe  in  the  heart  of  my  home's  sanctuary'  — 
ma}^  see  m}'  Ascanius,  and  my  father,  and  my  Creusa 
b}^  them  sacrificed  in  a  pool  of  each  other's  blood  ?  M}' 
arms,  friends,  bring  me  my  arms !  the  call  of  the  day 
of  death  rings  in  the  ears  of  the  conquered.  Give  me 
back  to  the  Danaans,  let  me  return  and  renew  the 
combat.  Never  shall  this  day  see  us  all  slaughtered 
unresisting. 

'  Now  I  gird  on  m}^  sword  again,  and  was  buckling 
and  fitting  my  shield  to  my  left  arm,  and  making  my 
way  out  of  the  house  —  when  lo !  my  wife  on  the 
threshold,  began  to  clasp  and  cling  to  my  feet,  holding 
out  my  little  lulus  to  his  father.  "If  it  is  to  death 
you  are  going,  then  carry  us  with  3'ou  to  death  and  all, 
but  if  experience  gives  you  an3'  hope  in  the  arms  3'ou 


BOOK  11.  173 

are  resuming,  let  your  first  stand  be  made  at  your 
home.  To  whom,  think  you,  are  you  leaving  youv 
little  lulus  —  your  father,  and  me  who  was  once  styled 
your  wife  ?  " 

'  Thus  she  was  crying,  while  her  moaning  filled  the 
house,  when  a  portent  appears,  sudden  and  marvelous 
to  relate.  Even  while  the  hands  and  e}' es  of  his 
grieving  parents  were  upon  him,  lo,  a  flickering  tongue 
of  flame  on  the  top  of  lulus'  head  was  seen  to  shoot 
out  light,  pla}  ing  round  his  soft  curly  locks  with  innoc- 
uous contact,  and  pasturing  about  his  temples.  We 
are  all  hurry  and  alarm,  shaking  out  his  blazing  hair 
and  quenching  the  sacred  fire  with  water  from  the 
spring  —  but  Anchises  my  father  raised  his  eyes  in 
ecstasy  to  heaven,  directing  hand  and  voice  to  the 
stars:  "Almighty  Jove,  if  any  prayer  can  bow  thy 
will,  look  down  on  us  —  'tis  all  I  crave  —  and  if  our 
piety  have  earned  requital,  grant  us  thy  succor,  father, 
and  ratify  the  omen  we  now  see."  Scarce  had  the  old 
man  spoken,  when  there  came  a  sudden  peal  of  thunder 
on  the  left,  and  a  star  fell  from  heaven  and  swept 
through  the  gloom  with  £^  torchlike  train  and  a  blaze  of 
light.  Over  the  top  of  the  house  we  see  it  pass,  and 
mark  its  course  along  the  sky  till  it  buries  itself  lus- 
trously in  Ida's  wood  —  then  comes  a  long  furrowed 
line  of  light,  and  a  sulphurous  smoke  fills  the  space  all 
about.  Then  at  length  overcome,  my  father  raises 
himself  towards  the  sky,  addresses  the  gods,  and  does 
reverence  to  the  sacred  meteor:  "No  more,  no  more 
delay  from  me.  I  follow  j'our  guidance,  and  am 
already  in  the  way  by  which  you  would  lead  me.  Gods 
of  my  country  !  preserve  my  house,  preserve  my  grand- 
child. Yours  is  this  augury  —  your  shield  is  stretched 
over  Troy.     Yes,  my  son,  I  give  way,  and  shrink  not 


174  THE  ^NEID, 

from  accompanying  your  flight."  He  said  —  and  by 
this  the  blaze  is  heard  louder  and  louder  through  the 
streets,  and  the  flames  roll  their  hot  volumes  nearer. 
*'  Come  then,  dear  father,  take  your  seat  on  my  back, 
my  shoulders  shall  support  you,  nor  shall  I  feel  the 
task  a  burden.  Fall  things  as  they  may,  we  twain  will 
share  the  peril,  share  the  deliverance.  Let  my  little 
lulus  walk  by  my  side,  while  my  wife  follows  our  steps 
at  a  distance.  You,  our  servants,  attend  to  what  I 
now  say.  As  you  leave  the  city  there  is  a  mound, 
where  stands  an  ancient  temple  of  Ceres  all  alone,  and 
by  it  an  old  cj^press,  observed  these  many  years  by  the 
reverence  of  our  sires.  This  shall  be  our  point  of 
meeting  in  one  place  from  many  quarters.  You,  my 
father,  take  in  yoUr  hand  these  sacred  things,  our 
country's  household  gods.  For  me,  just  emerged  from 
this  mighty  war,  with  the  stains  of  carnage  fresh  upon 
me,  it  were  sacrilege  to  touch  them,  till  I  have  cleansed 
me  in  the  running  stream." 

'  So  saying,  I  spread  out  my  shoulders,  bow  my 
neck,  cover  them  with  a  robe,  a  lion's  tawny  hide,  and 
take  up  the  precious  burden.  M}^  little  lulus  has 
fastened  his  hand  in  mine,  and  is  following  his  father 
with  ill-matched  steps,  my  wife  comes  on  behind.  On 
we  go,  keeping  in  the  shade  —  and  I,  who  ere  while 
quailed  not  for  a  moment  at  the  darts  that  rained  upon 
me  or  at  the  masses  of  Greeks  that  barred  my  path, 
now  am  scared  by  every  breath  of  air,  startled  by  every 
sound,  fluttered  as  I  am,  and  fearing  alike  for  him 
who  holds  my  hand  and  him  I  carry.  And  now  I  was 
nearing  the  gates,  and  the  whole  journey  seemed  accom- 
plished, when  suddenly  the  noise  of  thick  trampling 
feet  came  to  my  ear,  and  m}^  father  looks  onward 
through  the  darkness.     *' Son,  son,"   he  cries,  "fly: 


BOOK  II .  175 

they  are  upon  us.  I  distinguish  the  flashing  of  their 
shields  and  the  gleam  of  their  steel."  In  this  alarm 
some  unfriendly  power  perplexed  and  took  away  my 
judgment.  For,  while  I  was  tracking  places  where 
no  track  was,  and  swerving  from  the  wonted  line  of 
road,  woe  is  me  !  destiny  tore  from  me  my  wife  Creu- 
sa.  Whether  she  stopped,  or  strayed  from  the  road, 
or  sat  down  fatigued,  I  never  knew  —  nor  was  she 
ever  restored  to  my  eyes  in  life.  Nay,  I  did  not  look 
back  to  discover  my  loss,  or  turn  my  thoughts  that 
way  till  we  had  come  to  the  mound  and  temple  of 
ancient  Ceres ;  then  at  last,  when  all  were  mustered, 
she  alone  was  missing,  and  failed  those  who  should 
have  traveled  with  her,  her  son  and  husband  both. 
Whom  of  gods  or  men  did  my  upbraiding  voice  spare  ? 
what  sight  in  all  the  ruin  of  the  city  made  my  heart 
bleed  more?  Ascanius  and  Anchises  my  father  and 
the  Teucrian  household  gods  I  give  to  my  comrades' 
care,  and  lodge  them  in  the  winding  glade.  I  re- 
pair again  to  the  city  and  don  my  shining  armor. 
My  mind  is  set  to  try  everj^  hazard  again,  and  retrace 
my  path  through  the  whole  of  Troy,  and  expose  my 
life  to  peril  once  more.  First  I  repair  again  to  the 
city  walls,  and  the  gate's  dark  entry  by  which  I  had 
passed  out.  I  track  and  follow  my  footsteps  back 
through  the  night,  and  traverse  the  ground  with  my 
eye.  Everywhere  my  sense  is  scared  by  the  horror, 
scared  b}^  the  very  stillness.  Next  I  betake  me  home, 
in  the  hope,  the  faint  hope  that  she  may  have  turned 
her  steps  thither.  The  Danaans  had  broken  in  and 
were  lodged  in  every,  chamber.  All  is  over  —  the 
greedy  flame  is  wafted  by  the  wind  to  the  roof,  the 
fire  towers  triumphant  —  the  glow  streams  madly  heav- 
enwards.    I  pass  on,  and  look  again  at  Priam's  pal- 


176  THE  ^NEID. 

ace  and  the  citadel.  There  already  in  the  empty 
cloisters,  j'es,  in  Juno's  sanctuarj^,  chosen  guards, 
Phoenix  and  Ulysses  the  terrible,  were  watching  the 
spoil.  Here  are  gathered  the  treasures  of  Troy  torn 
from  blazing  shrines,  tables  of  gods,  bowls  of  solid 
gold  and  captive  vestments  in  one  great  heap.  Boys 
and  mothers  stand  trembling  all  about  in  long  array. 

*  Nay,  I  was  emboldened  even  to  fling  random  cries 
through  the  darkness.  I  filled  the  streets  with  shouts, 
and  in  m}^  agony  called  again  and  again  on  my  Creusa 
with  unavailing  iteration.  As  I  was  thus  making  my 
search  and  raving  unceasing!}'  the  whole  city  through, 
the  hapless  shade,  the  specter  of  my  own  Creusa  ap- 
peared in  my  presence  —  a  likeness  larger  than  the 
life.  I  was  aghast,  my  hair  stood  erect,  my  tongue 
clove  to  my  mouth,  while  she  began  to  address  me 
thus,  and  relieve  my  trouble  with  words  like  these : 
"Whence  this  strange  pleasure  in  indulging  frantic 
grief,  my  darling  husband  ?  it  is  not  without  Heaven's 
will  that  these  things  are  happening :  that  you  should 
carry  j^our  Creusa  with  3'ou  on  your  journey  is  forbid- 
den by  fate,  forbidden  by  the  mighty  ruler  of  Heaven 
above.  You  have  long  3'ears  of  exile,  a  vast  expanse 
of  ocean  to  traverse  —  and  then  you  will  arrive  at  the 
land  of  Hesperia,  where  Tiber,  L^^dia's  river,  rolls  his 
gentle  volumes  through  rich  and  cultured  plains.  There 
you  have  a  smiling  future,  a  kingdom  and  a  ro3'al  bride 
waiting  your  coming.  Drj'  your  tears  for  Creusa,  your 
heart's  choice  though  she  be.  I  am  not  to  see  the  face 
of  Myrmidons  or  Dolopes  in  their  haughty  homes,  or 
to  enter  the  service  of  some  Grecian  matron  —  I,  a 
Dardan  princess,  daughter  by  marriage  of  Venus  the 
immortal.  No,  T  am  kept  in  this  countrj^  by  Heaven's 
mighty  mother.     And  now  farewell,  and   continue  to 


BOOK  III.  VII 

love  your  son  and  mine.'*  Thus  having  spoken, 
spite  of  my  tears,  spite  of  the  thousand  things  I 
longed  to  say,  she  left  me  and  vanished  into  unsub- 
stantial air.  Thrice,  as  I  stood,  I  essayed  to  fling 
my  arms  round  her  neck  —  thrice  the  phantom  escaped 
the  hands  that  caught  at  it  in  vain  —  impalpable  as  the 
wind,  fleeting  as  the  wings  of  sleep. 

'  So  passed  my  night,  and  such  was  my  return  to  my 
comrades.  Arrived  there,  I  find  with  wonder  their 
band  swelled  b}^  a  vast  multitude  of  new  companions, 
matrons  and  warriors  both,  an  army  mustered  for 
exile,  a  crowd  of  the  wretched.  From  every  side  they 
were  met,  prepared  in  heart  as  in  fortune  to  follow  me 
over  the  sea  to  any  land  where  I  might  take  them  to 
settle.  And  now  the  morning  star  was  rising  over 
Ida's  loftiest  ridge  with  the  day  in  its  train  —  Danaan 
sentinels  were  blocking  up  the  entry  of  the  gates, 
and  no  hope  of  succor  appeared.  I  retired  at  last, 
took  up  my  father,  and  made  for  the  mountains. 


BOOK  III. 

'  After  that  it  had  seemed  well  to  the  powers  above 
to  overthrow  Asia's  fortunes  and  Priam's  guiltless 
nation ;  after  that  Ilion  fell  headlong  from  its  pride, 
and  Troj^,  which  Neptune  reared,  became  one  leveled 
smoking  ruin,  we  are  driven  by  auguries  from  heaven 
to  look  elsewhere  for  the  exile's  home  in  lands  yet  un- 
peopled. We  build  us  a  fleet  under  the  shadow  of 
Antandros  and  the  range  of  our  own  Phrygian  Ida,  all 
uncertain  whither  fate  may  carry  us,  where  it  may  be 
our  lot  to  settle,  and  muster  men  for  sailing.  Scarcely 
12 


178  THE  ^NEID. 

had  summer  set  in,  when  my  father,  Anchises,  was 
bidding  us  spread  our  sails  to  destiny.  Tlien  I  give 
my  last  tearful  look  to  my  country's  shores  and  her 
harbors,  and  those  plains  where  Troy  once  stood  but 
stands  no  longer.  A  banished  man,  I  am  wafted  into 
the  deep  with  my  comrades  and  my  son,  my  house- 
hold gods  and  their  mighty  brethren. 

'  In  the  distance  lies  the  land  of  the  war-god,  inhab- 
ited, in  vast  extent  —  the  Thracians  are  its  tillers  — 
subject  erewhile  to  Lycurgus'  savage  sway,  bound  by 
old  hospitality  to  Troy,  their  household  gods  friends  of 
ours,  while  our  star  yet  shone.  Hither  I  am  wafted, 
and  on  the  bending  line  of  coast  trace  the  outline  of  a 
cit}",  a  commencement  made  in  an  evil  hour,  and  call 
the  new  nation  uiEneadse,  after  my  own  name. 

*  I  was  sacrificing  to  my  parent,  Dione's  daughter, 
and  the  rest  of  the  gods,  that  they  might  bless  the 
work  I  had  begun,  and  was  slajing  to  the  heavenly 
monarch  of  the  powers  above  a  bull  of  shining  white- 
ness on  the  shore.  It  happened  that  there  was  a 
mound  near,  on  whose  top  wxre  plants  of  cornel,  and 
a  m3Ttle  bristling  thick  with  spear-like  wands.  I  drew 
near,  and  essayed  to  pull  up  from  the  ground  the  green 
forest  growth,  that  I  might  have  leafy  boughs  where- 
with to  shadow  the  altar,  when  I  see  a  portent  dreadful 
and  marvelous  to  tell.  For  the  first  tree  that  I  pull  up 
from  the  soil,  severing  its  roots,  from  that  tree  trickle 
drops  of  black  blood,  staining  the  earth  with  gore. 
For  me,  a  freezing  shudder  palsies  my  frame,  and  my 
chilled  blood  curdles  with  affright.  Again  I  go  on  to 
pluck  the  reluctant  fibers  of  a  second  tree,  and  thus 
probe  the  hidden  cause  to  the  bottom  ;  as  surely  from 
the  bark  of  that  second  tree  the  black  blood  follows. 
Much  musing   in   my  mind,  I  began   to  call   on   the 


BOOK  III.  179 

n3'niphs  of  the  wood,  and  Gradivus,  our  father,  patron 

of  the  land  of  Thrace,  that  they  might  duh'  turn  the 

appearance  to  good,  and  make  the  heav}^  omen  light. 

But  when  I  come  to  tear  up  a  third  spear-shaft  with  a 

still  greater  effort,  straining  with  my  knees  against  the 

sand  which  pressed  on  them  —  ought  I  to  tell  the  tale 

or  hold  my  peace  ?  —  a  lamentable  groan  is  heard  from 

the  bottom  of  the  mound,  and  the  utterance  of  a  human 

voice  reaches  my  ear  :  "  Why,  ^neas,  mangle  a  wretch 

like   me?     Spare   me  at  length  in  my  grave  —  spare 

those  pious  hands  the  stain  of  guilt.     It  was  not  -an 

alien  to  you  that  Troy  bore  injbearing  me  — it  is^itf  '^ 

tdr&n^  blood -^febftt-is-trickhng^irom  the  stem.     Ah  !  fly 

from  this  land  of  cruelt}^,  fly  from  this  shore  of  greed, 

for  I  am  Pol3'dorus.     Here  I  lie,  pierced  and  buried  by 

a  growing  crop  of  spears   that   has   shot   into  sharp 

javelins."  - 

^  '  Then,   indeed,  terror,   blank  and  irresolute,  came 

over  me  —  I  was  aghast  —  my  hair  stood  erect,  my 
tongue  clove  to  m}^  mouth.  Yes,  this  Polydorus  had 
long  ago  been  sent  secretl}^  by  Priam,  unhappy  then 
as  ever,  with  a  vast  weight  of  gold,  to  be  brought 
up  by  the  king  of  Thrace,  when  he  had  already  come 
to  despair  of-  the  arms  of  Dardania,  and  saw  the  siege 
folding  closer  round  his  city.  When  the  power  of  the 
^-5  Thracjans  had  been  broken,  and  their  star  set,  the 
Thracian  followed  Agamemnon's  fortunes,  and  joined 
the  standard  of  the  conqueror  —  every  tie  of  duty  is 
snapped  —  he  murders  Polydorus,  and  by  violence  pos- 
sesses himself  of  the  gold.  Cursed  lust  of  gold,  to 
what  dost  thou  not  force  the  heart  of  man  ?  After  the 
cold  shuddering  had  ceased  to  tingle  in  my  marrow,  I 
lay  this  portent  from  heaven  before  the  select  senate  of 
our  nation,  and  my  father  as  their  chief,  and  ask  them 


L 


ISO  THE  JENEID. 

what  they  think.  All  are  of  the  same  mind,  to  depart 
from  the  land  of  crime,  to  leave  the  home  of  violated 
friendship,  and  indulge  our  fleet  with  the  gales  that 
wooed  it.  So  we  give  Polydorus  a  solemn  funeral : 
earth  is  heaped  high  upon  his  mound  ;  there  stand  the 
altars  reared  to  his  manes,  in  all  the  woe  of  dark  fillets 
and  sad-colored  cj'press :  and  round  them  are  daugh- 
ters of  Ilion,  their  hair  unbound  in  mourner  fashion : 
we  offer  bowls-  of  new  milk  warm  and  frothing,  and 
dishes  of  consecrated  blood :  so  we  lay  the  spirit  to 
rest  in  its  grave,  and  with  a  loud  voice  give  the  fare- 
well call. 

*  Then,  when  the  deep  first  looks  friendly,  and  the 
winds  offer  a  smooth  sea,  and  the  south's  gentle 
whisper  invites  us  to  the  main,  our  crews  haul  down 
their  ships  and  crowd  the  shore.  We  sail  out  of  the 
harbor,  land  and  town  leaving  us  fast.  There  is  a 
sacred  country  with  water  all  round  it,  chief  favorite 
of  the  mother  of  the  Nereids  and  the  god  of  the  ^gean.  ■ 
Once  it  drifted  among  the  coasts  and  seaboards  round 
about,  till  the  heavenly  archer  in  filial  gratitude  moored 
it  to  the  rock  of  M3'conos  and  to  Gyaros,  and  gave  it 
to  be  a  fixed  dwelUng-place  henceforth,  and  to  laugh 
at  the  winds.  Hither  I  sail :  here  it  is  that  in  a  shel- 
tered harbor  our  weary  crews  find  gentlest  welcome. 
We  land,  and  worship  the  city  of  Apollo.  King  Anius, 
king  of  men  at  once  and  priest  of  Phoebus,  his  temples 
wreathed  with  fillets  and  hallowed  bay,  comes  running 
up ;  in  Anchises  he  owns  an  old  friend,  we  knit  hand 
to  hand  in  hospitalit}^  and  enter  his  roof. 

'  Behold  me  now  worshiping  the  temple  of  the  god, 
built  of  ancient  stone.  "  Give  us,  god  of  Thymbra,  a 
home  that  we  can  call  our  own  :  give  us  weary  men  a 
walled  habitation,  a  posterit}^,  a  city  that  will  last: 


BOOK  in.  181 

keep  from  ruin  Troy's  second  Pergamus,  all  that  was 
left  by  the  Danaans  and  their  ruthless  Achilles  !  Who 
is  our  guide?  Whither  wouldst  thou  have  us  go? 
where  set  up  our  roof-tree?  Vouchsafe  us  a  response, 
great  father,  and  steal  with  power  upon  our  souls  !  " 

'  Scarce  had  I  spoken,   when  methought   suddenly 
came  a  trembling  on  the  whole  place,  temple-gate  and  ' 

hallowed  bay,  a  stir  in  the  mountain  from  height  to 
depth,  a  muttering  from  the  tripod  as  the  door  of  the 
shrine  flew  open.  We  fall  low  on  earth,  and  a  voice 
is  wafted  to  our  ears :  "  Sons  of  Dardanus,  strong  to  c^Ac^cJ^je.  ^, 
endure,  the  land  which  first  gave  you  birth  from  your 
ancestral  tree,  the  same  land  shall  welcome  you  back, 
restored  to  its  fruitful  bosom  :  seek  for  your  old  mother 
till  3'ou  find  her.  There  it  is  that  the  house  of  ^neas 
shall  set  up  a  throne  over  all  nations,  they,  and  their  . 
children's  children,  and  those  that  shall  j'ct  come  after." 
Thus  Phoebus ;  and  a  mighty  burst  succeeds  of  wild 
multitudinous  jo}',  all  asking  as  one  man  what  that  city 
is  —  whither  is  Phoebus  calling  the  wanderers,  and  bid- 
ding them  return.  Then  my  father,  revolving  the 
traditions  of  men  of  old:  "Listen,"  he  cries,  "lords 
of  Troy,  and  learn  where  your  hopes  are.  Crete  lies 
in  the  midst  of  the  deep,  the  island  of  might}'  Jove. 
There  is  Mount  Ida,  and  there  the  cradle  of  our  race. 
It  has  a  hundred  peopled  cities,  a  realm  of  richest 
plenty.  Thence  it  was  that  our  first  father,  Teucer,  if 
I  rightly  recall  what  I  have  heard,  came  in  the  begin- 
ning to  the  Rhoetean  coast,  and  fixed  on  the  site  of 
empire  :  Ilion  and  the  towers  of  Pergamus  had  not  yet 
been  reared :  the  people  dwelt  low  in  the  valley. 
Hence  came  our  mighty  mother,  the  dweller  on  Mount 
Cybele,  and  the  s^^mbols  of  the  Corybants,  and  the  ' 
forest  of  Ida :  hence  the  inviolate  mystery  of  her  wor- 


\ 


182  THE  JENEID. 

ship,  and  the  lions  harnessed  to  the  car  of  their  queen. 
Come,  then,  and  let  us  follow  where  the  ordinance  of 
heaven  points  the  waj^ :  let  us  propitiate  the  winds, 
and  make  for  the  realm  of  Gnossus  —  the  vo3^age  is  no 
long  one  —  let  but  Jupiter  go  with  us,  and  the  third 
da}^  will  land  our  fleet  on  the  Cretan  shore."  He  said, 
and  offered  on  the  altar  the  sacrifice  that  was  meet  —  a 
bull  to  Neptune,  a  bull  to  thee,  beauteous  Apollo  —  a 
black  lamb  to  the  storm- wind,  to  the  favoring  Zephyrs 
a  white  one. 

'  Fame  flies  abroad  that  king  Idomeneus  has  been 
driven  to  quit  his  paternal  realm,  that  the  shores  of 
Crete  are  abandoned,  houses  cleared  of  the  enemj^, 
dwellings  standing  empty  to  receive  us.  So  we  leave 
Ortygia's  harbor,  and  fly  along  the  deep,  past  Naxos' 
bacchant  mountains,  and  green  Donysa,  Olearos,  and 
snowy  Paros,  and  the  Cyclades  sprinkled  over  the 
waves,  and  seas  thick  sown  with  islands.  Up  rises  the 
seaman's  shout  amid  strain  and  struggle  — •  each  en- 
courages his  comrades,  "  For  Crete  and  our  forefathers, 
ho  !  "  A  wind  gets  up  from  the  stern  and  escorts  us 
on  our  way,  and  at  length  we  are  wafted  to  the  Curetes' 
time-honored  shore. 

'And  now  the  site  is  chosen,  and  I  am  rearing  a 
city's  walls  and  calling  it  Pergamia :  the  new  nation  is 
proud  to  bear  the  name  of  the  old :  I  bid  them  love 
hearth  and  home,  and  raise  and  roof  the  citadel.  Al- 
ready the  ships  had  been  hauled  up  high  and  dry  on 
the  shore,  the  crews  were  busied  with  marriage  and 
tilling  the  new  country,  and  I  was  appointing  laws  to 
live  by,  and  houses  to  dwell  in  —  when  suddenly  there 
came  on  the  human  frame  a  wasting  sickness,  shed  from 
the  whole  tainted  expanse  of  the  sky,  a  piteous  blight 
on  trees  and  crops,  a  year  charged  with  death.     There 


BOOK  IIL  183 

were  men  leaving  the  lives  they  loved,  or  dragging  with 
them  the  bodies  that  burdened  them,  while  Sirius  baked 
the  fields  into  barrenness,  the  herbage  was  parching, 
the  corn  was  sickening,  and  would  not  jdeld  its  food. 
Back  again  to  Phoebus  and  his  Ort}  gian  oracle  over  the 
sea  my  father  bids  us  go,  and  there  sue  for  grace,  ask- 
ing the  god  to  what  haven  he  means  to  bring  our  over- 
toiled fortunes,  whence  he  orders  us  to  seek  for  help  in 
our  sufferings  —  whither  to  djrect  our  course. 

'  It  was  night  and  all  living  things  on  earth  were  in 
the  power  of  sleep,  when  methought  the  sacred  images 
of  the  gods,  the  Phrj-gian  household  deities,  whom  I 
had  borne  away  with  me  from  Troy,  even  from  the 
midst  of  the  blazing  town,  stood  before  ras  eyes  as  I 
lay  in  slumber,  clear  in  a  flood  of  light,  where  the  full 
moon  was  streaming  through  the  windows  of  the  house. 
Then  they  began  to  address  me  thus,  and  relieve  my 
trouble  with  words  Kke  these:  "The  answer  which 
Apollo  has  read}'  to  give  3'ou  when  3'ou  reach  Ortygia,  he 
delivers  here,  sending  us,  see,  of  his  own  motion  to  your 
very  door.  We,  the  followers  of  you  and  your  fortune 
since  Dardan  land  sunk  in  flame  —  we,  the  comrades  of 
the  fleet  which  you  have  been  guiding  over  the  swollen 
main  —  we  it  is  that  will  raise  to  the  stars  the  posterity 
that  shall  come  after  3'ou,  and  crown  your  city  with 
imperial  sway.  Be  it  yours  to  build  mighty  walls  for 
mighty  dwellers,  and  not  abandon  the  task  of  flight  for 
its  tedious  length.  Change  your  settlement :  it  is  not 
this  coast  that  the  Dehan  god  moved  you  to  accept  — 
not  in  Crete  that  Apollo  bade  you  sit  down.  No,  there 
is  a  place  —  the  Greeks  call  it  Hesperia  —  a  land  old  in 
story,  strong  in  arms  and  in  the  fruitfulness  of  its  soil 
—  the  CEnotrians  were  its  settlers.  Now  report  says 
that  later  generations  have  called   the  nation   Italian 


184  THE  JSNEID. 

from  the  name  of  their  leader.  That  is  our  true  home : 
thence  sprung  Dardanus  and  father  lasius,  the  first 
founder  of  our  line.  Quick  !  rise,  and  tell  the  glad  tale, 
which  brooks  no  question,  to  your  aged  sire:  tell  him 
that  he  is  to  look  for  Corythus  and  the  country  of  Au- 
sonia.  Jupiter  bars  you  from  the  fields  of  Dicte." 
Thus  astonished  by  visions  and  voices  of  heaven  —  for 
sleep  it  was  not :  no  —  methought  I  saw  them  face  to 
face,  their  wreathed  locks.,  and  their  features  all  in  full 
view ;  and  a  cold  sweat,  too,  trickled  down  my  whole 
frame.  I  leap  from  the  bed,  and  direct  upturned  hand 
and  voice  to  heaven,  and  pour  on  the  hearth  the  unde- 
filed  libation.  The  sacrifice  paid,  with  joy  I  inform 
Anchises,  and  expound  the  whole  from  first  to  last. 
He  owns  the  double  pedigree  and  the  rival  ancestors, 
and  his  own  new  mistake  about  the  two  old  countries. 
Then  he  sa3's :  "My  son,  trained  in  the  school  of 
Troy's  destiny,  Cassandra's  was  the  one  voice  which 
used  to  chant  to  me  of  this  chance.  Now  I  recollect, 
this  was  the  fortune  she  presaged  as  appointed  for  our 
line,  calling  often  for  Hesperia,  often  for  the  land  of 
Italy.  But  could  any  one  think  that  Teucrians  would 
ever  reach  the  Hesperian  shore?  Could  Cassandra's 
prophesying  in  those  days  gain  any  one's  credence? 
Let  us  give  way  to  Phoebus,  and  follow  the  better 
course  enjoined."  He  said,  and  with  one  consent  we 
gladly  obey.  So  we  quit  this  settlement  as  we  quitted 
the  last,  and  leaving  a  few  behind,  set  sail,  and  make 
our  hollow  bark  fiy  over  the  vast  world  of  waters. 

'  Soon  as  the  ships  had  gained  the  mid-sea,  and  land 
was  no  more  to  be  seen,  sky  on  every  side,  on  every 
side  ocean,  then  came  a  murky  storm-cloud  and  stood 
over  my  head,  charged  with  night  and  winter  tempest, 
and  darkness  ruffled  the  billow's  crest.     At  once  the 


BOOK  III.  185 

winds  lay  the  sea  in  heaps,  and  the  waters  rise  moun- 
tains high :  a  scattered  fleet,  we  are  tossed  upon  the 
vast  abyss  :  clouds  enshrouded  the  day,  and  dank  night 
robbed  us  of  the  sky,  while  fire  flashes  momently  from 
the  bursting  clouds.  We  are  dashed  out  of  our  track, 
and  wander  blindly  over  the  blind  waters.  Na}^,  even 
Palinurus  owns  he  cannot  tell  day  from,  night  in  a 
heaven  like  this,  or  recollect  the  footpath  in  the  watery 
wilderness.  Three  dreary  suns,  blotted  by  blinding 
darkness,  we  wander  on  the  deep :  three  nights  with 
never  a  star.  On  the  fourth  day,  at  last,  land  was  first 
seen  to  rise,  and  mountains  with  curling  smoke- wreaths 
to  dawn  in  distant  prospect.  Down  drop  the  sails  :  we 
rise  on  our  oars  :  incessantly  the  crews,  straining  every 
nerve,  toss  the  foam  and  sweep  the  blue. 

'  Escaped  from  the  sea,  I  am  fir^t  welcomed  by  the 
coast  of  the  Strophades  —  the  Strophades  are  known  by 
the  name  Greece  gave  them,  islands  in  the  great  Ionian, 
which  fell  Celseno  and  the  rest  of  the  Harpies  have 
made  their  home,  ever  since  Phineus'  doors  were  closed 
against  them,  and  fear  drove  them  from  the  board 
which  once  fed  them.  A  more  baleful  portent  than 
this  —  a  fiercer  plague  of  heaven's  vengeance  never 
crawled  out  of  the  Stygian  flood.  Birds  with  maidens* 
faces,  a  foul  discharge,  crooked  talons,  and  on  their 
cheeks  the  pallor  of  eternal  famine. 

*  On  our  arrival  here,  and  entering  the  harbor,  see ! 
we  behold  luxuriant  herds  of  oxen  grazing  dispersedly 
in  the  fields,  and  goats  all  along  the  grass,  with  none 
to  tend  them.  On  we  rush,  sword  in  hand,  inviting  the 
gods  and  Jove  himself  to  share  the  spoil  with  us :  and 
then  on  the  winding  shore  pile  up  couches  for  the  ban- 
quet, and  regale  on  the  dainty  fare.  But  on  a  sudden, 
with  an  appalling  swoop  from  the  hills,  the  Harpies  are 


186  THE  ^NEID. 

upon  us,  flapping  their  wings  with  a  mighty  noise  — 
they  tear  the  food  in  pieces,  and  spoil  all  with  their 
filthy  touch,  while  fearful  screeches  blend  with  foul 
smells.  Again,  in  a  deep  retreat  under  a  hollow  rock, 
with  trees  and  crisp  foliage  all  about  us,  we  set  out  the 
board  and  put  new  fire  on  new  altars.  Again,  from 
another  quarter  of  the  sky,  out  of  their  hidden  lair, 
comes  the  troop,  all  rush  and  sound,  flying  about  the 
pre}^  with  their  hooked  talons,  tainting  the  food  with 
their  loathsome  mouths.  I  give  the  word  to  my  com- 
rades to  seize  their  arms  and  wage  war  with  the  fell 
tribe.  As  I  ordered  they  do — they  arrange  their 
swords  in  hiding  about  the  grass,  and  cover  and  con- 
ceal their  shields.  So  soon  as  the  noise  of  their  swoop 
was  heard  along  the  winding  shore,  Misenus,  from  his 
lofty  watch-tower,  makes  the  hollow  brass  sound  the 
alarm.  On  rush  m}^  comrades,  and  essay  a  combat  of  a 
new  sort,  to  spoil  with  their  swords  the  plumage  of 
these  foul  sea-birds.  But  no  violence  will  ruflfie  their 
feathers,  no  wounds  pierce  their  skin :  they  are  off  in 
rapid  flight  high  in  the  air,  leaving  their  half-eaten  prey 
and  their  filthy  trail  behind  them.  One  of  them,  Celaeno, 
perches  on  a  rock  of  vast  height —  ill-boding  prophetess 
—  and  gives  vent  to  words  like  these:  "What,  is  it 
war,  for  the  oxen  you  have  slain  and  the  bullocks  you 
have  felled,  true  sons  of  Laomedon?  is  it  war  that  you 
are  going  to  make  on  ws,  to  expel  us,  blameless  Har- 
pies, from  our  ancestral  realm  ?  Take  then  into  3'our 
minds  these  my  words,  and  print  them  there.  The 
prophecy  which  the  Almighty  Sire  imparted  to  Phoebus, 
Phoebus  Apollo  to  me,  I,  the  chief  of  the  Furies,  make 
known  to  you.  For  Italy,  I  know,  3'ou  are  crowding 
all  sail :  well,  the  winds  shall  be  at  3'our  call  as  you  go 
to  Italy,  and  you  shall  be  free  to  enter  its  harbors  :  but 


BOOK  III.  187 

you  shall  not  build  walls  round  your  fated  citj^,  before 
fell  hunger  and  your  murderous  wrong  against  us  drive 
yon  to  gnaw  and  eat  up  your  very  tables."  She  said, 
and  her  wings  carried  her  swiftly  into  the  wood.  But 
for  m^^  friends,  a  sudden  terror  curdled  their  blood,  their 
hearts  died  within  them  ;  no  more  arms  — no,  we  must 
sue  for  grace,  with  vows  and  prayers,  be  the  creatures 
goddesses  or  fell  and  loathsome  birds.  And  my  father 
Anchises,  spreading  his  hands  from  the  shore,  invokes 
the  might}^  powers,  and  ordains  meet  sacrifice  —  "  Great 
gods,  forefend  these  menaces !  Great  gods,  avert  a 
chance  like  this,  and  let  your  blessing  shield  3'our 
worshipers  !  "  Then  he  bids  us  tear  our  moorings  from 
the  shore,  and  uncoil  and  stretch  our  ropes. 

'  The  winds  swell  our  sails,  we  scud  over  the  foam- 
ing surge,  where  gale  and  pilot  bid  us  go.  Now  rising 
from  the  wave  are  seen  the  woods  of  Zacynthos,  and 
Dulichium,  and  Samos,  and  the  tall  cliffs  of  Neritos : 
we  fly  past  the  rocks  of  Ithaca,  Laertes'  realm,  breath- 
ing a  curse  for  the  land  that  nursed  the  hard  heart  of 
Ulysses.  Soon,  too,  the  storm-capped  peaks  of  Leu- 
cata  dawn  on  the  view,  and  their  Apollo,  the  terror  of 
sailors.  In  our  weariness  we  make  for  him,  and  enter 
the  little  town  :■  our  anchors  are  thrown  from  the  prow, 
our  sterns  ranged  on  the  coast. 

'  So  now,  masters  of  the  land  beyond  our  hope,  we 
perform  lustrations  to  Jove,  and  set  the  altars  ablaze 
with  our  vows,  and  solemnize  the  shores  of  Actium 
with  the  native  games  of  Troy.  My  comrades  strip, 
and  practice  the  wrestle  of  the  old  country,  all  shppery 
with  oil :  what  J03'  to  have  passed  in  safety  by  all  those 
Argive  cities,  and  held  on  our  flight  through  the  heart 
of  the  foe  !  Meanwhile  the  sun  rolls  round  the  mighty 
year,  and  the  north  winds  of  icy  winter  roughen  the 


188  THE  ^NEID. 

sea.  A  shield  of  hollow  brass,  once  borne  by  the  great 
Abas,  I  fasten  up  full  on  the  temple  gate,  and  signahze 
the  deed  with  a  verse:  "  These  arms  are  the  offering 
of  uS^neas,  won  from  his  Danaan  conquerors."  Then 
I  give  the  word  to  leave  the  haven  and  take  seat  on  the 
benches.  Each  V3'ing  with  each,  the  crews  strike  the 
water  and  sweep  the  marble  surface.  In  due  course 
we  hide  from  view  the  airy  summits  of  Phaeacian  land, 
coast  the  shore  of  Epirus,  enter  the  Chaonian  haven^ 
and  approach  Buthrotum's  lofty  tower. 

'  Here  a  rumor  of  events  past  belief  takes  hold  of  our 
ears  —  that  Helenus,  son  of  Priam,  is  reigning  among 
Grecian  cities,  lord  of  the  wife  and  crown  of  P3Trhus, 
Achilles'  very  son,  and  that  Andromache  had  again 
been  given  to  a  husband  of  her  own  nation.  I  was 
astounded  :  mj^  heart  kindled  with  a  strange  longing  to 
have  speech  of  my  old  friend,  and  learn  all  about  this 
wondrous  stroke  of  fortune.  So  I  advance  into  the 
country  from  the  haven,  leaving  fleet  and  coast  behind, 
at  the  very  time  when  Andromache,  before  the  city,  in 
a  grove,  by  the  wave  of  a  mock  Simois,  was  celebrating 
a  yearly  banquet,  the  offering  of  sorrow,  to  the  dead, 
and  invoking  her  Hector's  shade  at  a  tomb  called  by 
his  name,  an  empty  mound  of  green  turf  which  she  had 
consecrated  to  him  with  two  altars,  that  she  might  have 
the  privilege  of  weeping.  Soon  as  her  wild  e3'e  saw  me 
coming  with  the  arms  of  Troy  all  about  me,  scared  out 
of  herself  by  the  portentous  sight,  she  stood  chained  to 
earth  while  yet  gazing  —  life's  warmth  left  her  frame  — 
she  faints,  and  after  long  time  scarce  finds  her  speech  : 
—  "  Is  it  a  real  face  that  I  see  ?  are  those  real  lips  that 
bring  me  news?  Goddess-born,  are  you  among  the 
living?  or,  if  the  blessed  light  has  left  you,  where  is 
my  Hector? "    She  spoke  —  her  tears  flowed  freely,  and 


BOOK  III.  189 

the  whole  place  was  filled  with  her  shrieks.  Few,  and 
formed  with  labor,  are  the  words  I  address  to  her  fren- 
zied ear,  broken  and  confused  the  accents  I  utter :  — 
"  Aye,  I  live,  sure  enough,  and  through  the  worst  of 
fortunes  am  dragging  on  life  still.  Doubt  it  not,  3'our 
eye  tells  you  true.  Alas !  on  what  chance  have  you 
alit,  fallen  from  the  height  where  your  first  husband 
throned  3'ou  ?  What  smile  has  Fortune  bright  enough 
to  throw  back  on  Hector's  Andromache  ?  is  it  Pyrrhus' 
bed  3'ou  are  still  tending?"  She  dropped  her  e^^es,  and 
spoke  with  bated  breath:  —  "O  blest  pre-eminently 
over  all,  Priam's  virgin  daughter,  bidden  to  die  at  the 
grave  of  her  foe,  under  Troy's  lofty  walls  !  she  that  had 
not  to  brook  the  chance  of  the  lot,  or  a  slave  and  a 
captive  to  touch  the  bed  of  her  lord  and  conqueror ! 
"While  we,  after  the  burning  of  our  cit}',  carried  over 
this  sea  and  that,  have  stooped  to  the  scorn,  the  3'outh- 
ful  insolence  of  Achilles'  heir,  the  slave-mother  of  his 
child  ;  he,  after  this,  goes  in  quest  of  Leda's  Hermione 
and  her  Spartan  alliance,  and  gives  me  over  to  Helenus, 
the  bondwoman  to  be  the  bondman's  mate  I  Him,  how- 
ever, Orestes,  fired  b}"  desperate  passion  for  a  ravished 
bride,  and  maddened  by  the  frenzy-fiend  of  crime,  sur- 
prises at  unawares,  and  slays  at  his  sire's  own  altar. 
At  Neoptolemus'  death  a  portion  of  this  kingdom  passed 
to  Helenus,  who  called  the  fields  Chaonian,  and  the  land 
itself  Chaonia,  from  Chaon,  their  Trojan  namesake,  and 
crowned,  as  3'ou  see,  these  heights  with  a  new  Per- 
gamus,  the  citadel  of  Ilion.  But  you  —  what  wind, 
what  destiny  has  shaped  your  voyage  ?  What  god  has 
driven  you  on  a  coast  which  you  know  not  to  be  ours  ? 
What  of  the  boy  Ascanius  ?  is  he  alive  and  breathing 
upper  air?  he,  whom  you  on  that  night  at  Troy  —  say, 
can  his  boyish  mind  feel  3^et  for  the  mother  he  has  lost? 


190  THE  uENEID. 

Is  he  enkindled  at  all  to  the  valor  of  old  da^'S,  the 
prowess  of  a  grown  man,  by  a  father  like  ^neas,  an 
uncle  like  Hector  ?  " 

'  Such  were  the  sorrow^s  she  kept  pouring  out,  weep- 
ing long  and  fruitlessly,  when  Priam's  noble  son,  He- 
lenas, presents  himself  from  the  city,  with  a  train  of 
followers,  and  knows  his  friends  again,  and  joyfully 
leads  them  to  his  home,  many  a  tear  interrupting  his 
utterance.  As  I  go  on,  I  recognize  a  miniature  Troy, 
a  Pergamus  copied  from  the  great  one,  a  dry  rivulet 
the  namesake  of  Xanthus,  and  throw  my  arms  round  a 
Scaean  gate.  My  Trojan  comrades,  too,  are  made  free 
of  the  friendly  town.  The  king  made  entertainment 
for  them  in  spacious  cloisters.  There,  in  the  midst  of 
the  hall,  they  were  pouring  libations  fro^i  cups  of  wine, 
their  meat  served  on  gold,  and  goblets  in  their  hands. 

'  And  now  suppose  a  day  past,  and  yet  another  day : 
the  breeze  is  inviting  the  sail,  the  swelling  south  inflat- 
ing the  canvas,  when  I  accost  the  prophet  with  these 
words,  and  put  to  him  the  question  I  tell  you  :  —  "  True 
Trojan  born,  heaven's  interpreter,*  whose  senses  inform 
you  of  the  stars,  and  of  the  tongue  of  birds,  and  of  the 
omens  of  the  flying  wing,  tell  me  now  —  for  revelation 
has  spoken  in  auspicious  words  of  the  whole  of  my 
voyage,  and  all  the  gods  have  urged  me  with  one  voice 
of  power  to  make  for  Italy,  and  explore  that  hidden 
clime.  One  alone,  the  Harpy  Celseno,  forebodes  a 
strange  portent,  too  horrible  to  tell,  denouncing  fierce 
vengeance  and  unnatural  hunger.  Tell  me  then,  what 
perils  do  I  shun  first,  or  what  must  I  observe  to  sur- 
mount the  tremendous  hardships  before  me?"  Then 
Helenus  first  implores  the  favor  of  Heaven  by  a  solemn 

*  It  will  be  observed  that  Mr.  Conington  has  missed  a  line 
in  his  translation  here.  —  [Ed.] 


BOOK  III.  191 

sacrifice  of  bullocks,  and  unbinds  the  fillet  from  his 
consecrated  brow,  and  with  his  own  hand  leads  me  to 
thy  temple,  Phoebus,  my  mind  Ufted  from  its  place 
by  the  effluence  of  divine  power;  which  done,  that 
priestly  mouth  chants  these  words  from  its  prophetic 
lips :  — 

'  "  Goddess-born — for  that  presages  of  mighty  bless- 
ing are  attending  you  over  the  deep  is  clear  beyond 
doubt  —  such  is  the  casting  of  the  lot  of  fate  by 
heaven's  king  as  he  rolls  event  after  event  —  such  the 
ordained  succession  —  a  few  things  out  of  many,  to 
make  your  voyage  through  strange  waters  safer,  5'our 
settlement  in  Ausonia's  haven  more  assured.  My 
speech  shall  unfold  to  j^ou  but  a  few  —  for  the  rest 
the  fatal  sisters  keep  from  Helenus'  knowledge,  and 
Saturnian  Juno  seals  his  lips.  First  then  for  Italy, 
which  you  think  close  at  hand,  read}^  in  your  blindness 
to  rush  into  the  harbors  that  neighbor  us,  the  length  of 
a  wa}'  where  no  wa}^  is,  severs  you  from  its  length  of 
territor3\  First  must  the  oar  be  suppled  in  Trinacrian 
waters,  and  your  ships  must  traverse  the  expanse  of  the 
Ausonian  brine,  and  the  spectral  lake,  and  the  isle  of 
JEsean  Circe,  ere  you  can  find  a  safe  spot  to  build  a 
peaceful  city.  I  will  tell  you  the  tokens,  be  it  3'ours 
to  keep  them  lodged  in  3'our  mind.  When  on  an 
anxious  day,  b}^  the  side  of  a  sequestered  river,  3'ou 
shall  find  an  enormous  swine  13'ing  under  the  oaks  on 
the  bank  with  a  litter  of  thirty  head  just  born,  white 
herself  through  all  her  lazj-  length,  her  children  round 
her  breasts  as  white  as  she  —  that  shall  be  the  site 
of  your  city  —  that  3'our  assured  rest  from  toil  and 
trouble.  Nor  need  you  shudder  beforehand  at  the 
prospect  of  gnawing  your  tables  —  the  fates  will  find 
you  a  path,  and  a  prayer  will  bring  you  Apollo.     But 


192  THE  jENEID. 

as  for  these  lands,  and  this  line  of  the  Italian  coast, 
which  lies  close  at  hand,  and  is  washed  by  the  spray 
of  our  waters,  this  you  must  fly :  the  cities,  one  and 
all,  are  peopled  b}-  enemies  from  Greece.  Here  the 
Narycian  Locrians  have  built  them  cities,  and  the 
Sallentine  fields  have  been  occupied  with  an  army  by 
L3'ctian  Idomeneus :  here  is  the  Meliboean  chief  Phi- 
loctetes'  tin}'  town  Patella,  with  a  strong  wall  to  prop 
it.  Further,  when  your  fleet  stands  moored  on  the 
other  side  the  water,  and  30U  build  altars  and  pay  vows 
on  the  coast,  shroud  3'our  head  with  the  covering  of  a 
purple  robe,  lest,  while  the  hallowed  fires  are  blazing, 
and  the  worship  of  the  gods  yet  unfinished,  some 
enemy's  eye  should  meet  3'ours,  and  make  the  omens 
void.  Be  this  ritual  custom  maintained  by  your  com- 
rades as  by  yourself:  let  the  piety  of  generations  to 
come  abide  in  this  observance.  But  when  leaving 
Italy  you  are  carried  by  the  wind  near  the  Sicilian 
coast,  and  Pelorus'  narrow  bars  dimly  open,  make  for 
the  left  shore,  for  the  left  water,  long  as  the  circuit 
round  may  be ;  avoid  the  right,  its  land  and  its  seas. 
This  whole  region  hj  the  forceful  throes  of  a  mighty 
convulsion  —  s.uch  power  of  change  is  there  in  long 
centuries  of  olden  time  —  was  rent  in  twain,  so  runs 
the  stor}',  the  two  countries  before  having  been  one 
and  unbroken ;  at  last  the  sea  poured  in  violently  be- 
tween, and  with  its  waters  cut  off  the  Hesperian  from 
the  Sicilian  side,  washing  between  fields  and  cities, 
their  seaboards  now  parted,  with  the  waves  of  its  nar- 
row channel.  There  the  right-hand  coast  is  held  by 
Scylla,  the  left  b}-  Char^'bdis,  ever  hungering,  who,  at 
the  bottom  of  the  whirling  abyss,  thrice  a  day  draws 
the  huge  waves  down  her  precipitous  throat,  and  in 
turn  upheaves  them  to  the  sky,  and  lashes  the  stars 


BOOK  III.  '  193 

with  their  spray.  But  Scylla  is  confined  in  the  deep 
recesses  of  a  cave,  whence  she  thrusts  out  her  mouths, 
and  drags  vessels  on  to  her  rocks.  At  top,  a  human 
face,  a  maiden  with  beauteous  bosom ;  at  bottom  an 
enormous  sea-monster  —  dolphins'  tails  attached  to  a 
belly  all  of  wolves'  heads.  Better  far  wearily  to  round 
the  goal  of  Trinacrian  Pachynus  and  fetch  about  a 
tedious  compass,  than  once  to  have  looked  on  the 
monster  Scylla  in  her  enormous  cave,  and  the  rocks 
that  echo  with  her  sea-colored  dogs.  Moreover,  if 
there  be  any  foresight  in  Helenus,  if  you  give  an}' 
credence  to  his  prophetic  tongue,  if  his  mind  be  a 
fountain  of  Apollo's  truth,  one  thing  there  is,  goddess- 
born,  one  thing  outweighing  all  beside  which  I  will 
foreshow  j^ou,  reiterating  the  warning  again  and  again 
—  be  Juno,  great  Juno,  the  first  whose  deity  you  wor- 
ship —  to  Juno  chant  your  willing  prayers ;  subdue 
that  might}'  empress  by  suppliant  offerings :  thus  at 
last  victorious  3'ou  will  leave  Trinacria  behind,  and  be 
sped  to  the  borders  of  Ital}'.  When  j'ou  are  there  at 
length,  and  have  come  to  the  city  of  Cumse,  and  the 
haunted  lake,  and  the  woods  that  rustle  over  Avernus, 
you  will  have  sight  of  the  frenzied  prophetess,  who, 
in.  the  cavern  under  the  rock,  chants  her  fateful  strain, 
and  commits  characters  and  words  to  the  leaves  of 
trees.  All  the  strains  that  the  maid  has  written  on 
these  leaves  she  arranges  in  order,  shuts  them  up  in 
her  cave,  and  leaves  them  there.  They  remain  as 
she  has  left  them,  their  disposition  unchanged.  But, 
strange  to  say,  when  the  hinge  is  turned,  and  a  breath 
of  air  moves  the  leaves,  and  the  opened  door  throws 
their  light  ranks  into  confusion,  henceforth  she  never 
troubles  herself  for  a  moment  to  catch  them  as  they 
fly  about  the  cavern,  to  restore  them  to  their  places,  or 
13 


194  THE  J^NEID. 

to  fit  eacli  strain  to  each.  The  inquirers  retire  with 
their  doubts  unsolved,  and  a  hatred  of  the  sibyl's  seat. 
Arrived  here,  let  no  cost  of  time  or  delay  weigh  with 
you  so  much  — though  your  comrades  should  chide^ 
and  the  voj^age  loudly  call  your  sails  to  sea,  and  a 
sheet- full  of  fair  wind  be  there  at  your  choice  —  but 
that  you  visit  the  prophetess,  and  beg  and  pray  her 
herself  to  chant  the  oracle,  loosing  speech  and  tongue 
with  a  ready  will.  She  shall  tell  you  of  the  nations  of 
Italy,  and  the  wars  of  the  future,  and  the  way  to  shun 
or  stand  the  shock  of  every  peril,  and  shall  vouchsafe 
to  your  prayer  the  boon  of  a  prosperous  voyage.  Such 
are  the  counsels  which  it  is  given  you  to  receive  from 
my  lips.  Go  on  your  way,  and  by  your  own  actions 
lift  to  heaven  the  greatness  of  Troy." 

'  Soon  as  the  seer  had  thus  uttered  these  words  of 
kindness,  he  next  orders  massy  gifts  of  gold  and 
carved  ivory  to  be  carried  on  shipboard,  and  stores  in 
the  keels,  a  weight  of  silver  and  caldrons  of  Dodona, 
a  cuirass  of  chain-mail,  three- threaded  in  gold,  and  a 
splendid  helmet  with  cone  and  flowing  crest,  the  armor 
of  Neoptolemus.  My  father,  too,  has  presents  of  his 
own.  Horses,  too,  he  gives,  and  guides  too  ;  makes  up 
the  complement  of  oars,  and  arms  the  crews.  Mean- 
while Anchises  was  giving  the  word  to  rig  the  fleet, 
not  to  wear  out  the  patience  of  a  fair  wind.  Him  the 
interpreter  of  Phoebus  addresses  with  much  pomp  of 
courtesy:  "  Anchises,  graced  with  the  proud  privilege 
of  Venus's  wedded  love,  the  special  care  of  the  gods, 
whom  they  twice  interposed  to  save  from  the  fall  of 
Pergamus,  lo !  there  lies  Ausonia's  land;  for  this 
make  all  sail.  Yet  what  have  I  said  ?  This  coast  you 
must  needs  sail  past ;  far  away  yonder  lies  that  part 
of  Ausonia  which  Apollo  reveals  to  you.     Go  on  your 


BOOK  in.  195 

way,"  cries  he,  "  blessed  in  a  son  so  duteous!  Why 
proceed  further,  and  make  the  rising  gales  wait  while  I 
talk?"  As  freely,  too,  Andromache,  saddened  with 
the  grief  of  parting,  presents  Ascanius  with  robes  pic- 
tured with  gold  embroidery,  and  a  Phr3^gian  scarf.  She 
tires  not  in  her  bount}^,  but  loads  him  with  gifts  of 
needlework,  and  bespeaks  him  thus  :  "  Take,  too,  these, 
dear  bo}^,  to  be  a  memorial  of  what  my  hands  can  do  — 
a  token  for  long  years  of  the  affection  of  Andromache, 
Hector's  wife.  Yes,  take  the  last  presents  your  kin 
can  bestow,  O,  sole  surviving  image  of  my  own  As- 
tyanax !  Those  eyes  are  his  eyes,  those  hands  his 
hands,  that  face  his  face,  and  he  would  now  be  growing 
to  manhood  by  your  side,  in  bloom  like  yo\XT%  !  "  Tears 
started  forth,  as  I  addressed  my  parting  words  to  the 
royal  pair :  "  Live  long  and  happily,  as  those  should  for 
whom  the  book  of  Fortune  is  closed.  We,  alas !  are 
still  called  to  turn  page  after  page.  You  have  won 
your  rest :  you  have  no  expanse  of  sea  to  plough,  no 
Ausonian  fields  to  chase,  still  retiring  as  you  advance. 
Your  eyes  look  upon  a  copy  of  the  old  Xanthus,  upon 
a  Tro}^  which  your  own  hands  have  made  —  made,  I 
would  hope  and  praj',  with  happier  auspices,  and  with 
less  peril  of  a  visit  from  Greece.  If  the  day  ever  ar- 
rive when  I  shall  enter  Tiber  and  the  fields  that  neigh- 
bor Tiber,  and  look  on  the  walls  which  Fate  has  made 
over  to  Toy  people,  then  we  will  have  our  two  kindred 
cities,  our  two  fraternal  nations  —  the  one  in  Epirus, 
the  other  in  Hesperia,  with  a  common  founder,  Dar- 
danus,  and  a  common  history — animated  by  one  heart, 
till  they  come  to  be  one  Troy.  Be  this  the  destined 
care  of  our  posterity  !  " 

*  We  push  on  over  the  sea  under  Ceraunia's  neigh- 
boring range,   whence  there  is  a  way  to  Italy,  the 


196  THE  jENEID. 

shortest  course  through  the  water.  Meantime  the  sun 
drops,  and  the  mountains  are  veiled  in  shadow.  We 
stretch  ourselves  gladl}^  on  the  lap  of  earth  by  the 
water's  side,  having  cast  lots  for  the  oars,  and  take  our 
ease  dispersedly  along  the  dry  beach.  Sleep's  dew 
sprinkles  our  wearied  limbs.  Not  yet  was  night's  car, 
entering  the  middle  of  its  circle,  drawn  by  the  unflag- 
ging hours,  when  Palinurus,  with  no  thought  of  sloth, 
springs  from  his  bed,  explores  everj^  wind,  and  catches 
with  his  ears  the  voices  of  the  air.  All  the  stars  he 
notes,  as  they  swim  through  the  silent  sky,  looking 
round  on  Arcturus,  and  the  showery  Hyades,  and  the 
twin  Bears,  and  Orion  in  his  panoply  of  gold.  Soon  as 
he  sees  them  all  set  in  a  heaven  of  calm,  he  gives  a 
clear  signal  from  the  stern.  We  break  up  our  quarters, 
essay  our  flight,  and  spread  the  wings  of  our  sails. 
And  now  the  stars  were  fled,  and  Aurora  was  just 
reddening  in  the  sky,  when  in  the  distance  we  see  the 
dim  hills  and  low  plains  of  Italy.  "  Italy!"  Achates 
was  the  first  to  cry.  Italj',  our  crews  welcome  with  a 
shout  of  rapture.  Then  my  father,  Anchises,  wreathed 
a  mighty  bowl  with  a  garland,  and  filled  it  with  wine, 
and  called  on  the  gods,  standing  upon  the  tall  stern : 
''Ye  powers  that  rule  sea  and  land  and  weather,  waft 
us  a  fair  wind  and  a  smooth  passage,  and  breathe  au- 
spiciously !  "  The  breeze  we  wished  for  freshens  ;  the 
harbor  opens  as  we  near  it,  and  the  temple  of  Minerva 
is  seen  crowning  the  height.  The  crews  furl  the  sails, 
and  turn  their  prows  coast  ward.  The  harbor  is  curved 
into  an  arch  by  the  easterty  waves ;  a  barrier  of  cliffs 
on  each  side  foams  again  with  the  briny  spray ;  be- 
tween them  the  haven  lies  concealed  ;  the  towery  rocks 
let  down  their  arms  like  two  walls,  and  the  temple  re- 
tires from  the  shore.     Here  on  the  grass  I  saw  four 


BOOK  in.  197 

horses,  the  first  token  of  heaven's  will,  browsing  the 
meadow  at  large,  of  snowy  whiteness.  And  Anchises, 
my  father,  breaks  forth:  "War  is  on  thy  front,  land 
of  the  stranger  ;  for  war  thy  horses  are  prepared  ;  war 
is  threatened  by  the  cattle  we  see.  Still,  these  beasts 
no  less  are  trained  one  day  to  stoop  to  the  car,  and 
carry  harness  and  curb  in  harmon}^  with  the  yoke; 
yes,"  cries  he,  "  there  is  hope  of  peace,  too."  With 
that  we  make  our  prayers  to  the  sacred  majesty  of 
Pallas,  queen  of  clanging  arms,  the  first  to  welcome  us 
in  the  hour  of  our  joy ;  and,  according  to  Helenus' 
order,  that  order  which  he  gave  so  earnestly,  we  duly 
solemnize  to  Juno  of  Argos  the  .  prescribed  honors. 
Then,  without  dallying,  soon  as  our  vows  were  paid  in 
course,  we  turn  landward  the  horns  of  our  covered  sail- 
yards,  and  leave  the  homes  of  the  sons  of  Greece,  and 
the  fields  we  could  not  trust.  Next  we  sight  the  bay 
of  Tarentum,  the  city,  if  legend  say  true,  of  Hercules ; 
right  against  us  rises  the  goddess  of  Lacinium,  and  the 
towers  of  Caulon,  and  Scylaceum,  wrecker  of  ships. 
Then,  in  the  distance,  from  the  surge  is  seen  Trina- 
crian  ^tna  ;  and  the  heavy  groaning  of  the  sea  and  the 
beating  of  the  rocks  is  heard  from  afar,  and  broken 
voices  on  the  beach  and  the  depths  leap  up  to  sight, 
and  the  sands  are  in  a  turmoil  with  the  surge.  Then, 
my  father,  Anchises  :  "  No  doubt  this  is  that  Charj'b- 
dis ;  these  the  cUfi's,  these  the  frightful  rocks  of  He- 
lenus*  song.  Snatch  us  from  them,  comrades  ;  rise  on 
your  oars  as  one  man."  They  do  no  less  than  bidden  ; 
first  of  all  Palinurus  turned  the  plashing  prow  to  the 
waters  on  the  left ;  for  the  left  makes  the  whole  fleet, 
oars,  winds,  and  all.  Up  we  go  to  heaven  on  the 
arched  back  of  the  wave ;  down  again,  as  the  water 
gives  way  under  us,  we  sink  to  the  place  of  death  be- 


198  THE  jENEID, 

low.  Thrice  the  rocks  shouted  in  our  ears  deep  in  their 
ston}'  hollows  ;  twice  we  saw  the  foam  dashed  up,  and 
the  stars  all  dripping.  Meanwhile,  tired  and  spent,  we 
lose  wind  and  sunlight  at  once,  and,  in  our  ignorance 
of  the  wa}',  float  to  the  land  of  the  Cyclops. 

'  There  is  a  haven,  sheltered  from  the  approach  of 
the  winds,  and  spacious,  were  that  all ;  but  JEtna  is 
near,  thundering  with  appalUng  crashes  ;  at  one  time  it 
hurls  to  the  sky  a  black  cloud,  a  smoky  whirlwind  of 
soot  and  glowing  ashes,  and  upheaves  balls  of  fire,  and 
licks  the  stars  ;  at  another  it  raises  rocks,  torn  from  the 
mountain's  bowels,  and  whirls  heaps  of  molten  stones 
into  the  air  with  a  groan,  and  boils  up  from  its  very 
foundations.  The  legend  is,  that  the  body  of  Ence- 
ladus,  blasted  by  lightning,  is  kept  down  by  this  mighty 
weight,  and  that  the  giant  bulk  of  jEtna,  piled  on  him, 
breathes  forth  penal  fire  through  passages  which  that 
fire  has  burst;  and  ever,  as  he  shifts  his  side  from 
weariness,  all  Trinacria  quakes  and  groans,  and  draws 
up  a  curtain  of  smoke  over  the  skj^  That  night,  in  the 
shelter  of  the  woods,  we  endure  the  visitation  of  mon- 
strous portents,  yet  see  not  what  cause  produces  the 
sound.  For  there  was  no  starlight,  no  sk}^,  bright  with 
a  heaven  of  constellations,  but  the  firmament  was  dim 
and  murky,  and  dead  night  was  keeping  the  moon  in  a 
prison  of  storm-clouds. 

'  And  now  the  next  day  was  breaking  in  early  dawn, 
and  Aurora  had  drawn  off  the  dewy  shadow  from  the 
sk}',  when  suddenly  from  the  woods  comes  forth  the 
strange  figure  of  a  man  unknown,  in  piteous  trim  —  a 
picture  completed  by  Famine's  master-stroke,  and 
stretches  his  hands  in  supplication  to  the  shore.  We 
look  back  :  there  was  filth  to  make  us  shudder,  a  length 
of  beard,  a  covering  fastened  with  thorns  ;  yet  the  rest 


BOOK  III.  199 

betokened  a  Greek,  who  had  once  been  sent  to  Troy  in 
the  army  of  his  nation.  As  for  him,  when  he  saw  from 
afar  the  dress  of  Dardan  land  and  the  arms  of  Troy, 
for  a  moment  he  faltered,  scared  by  the  sight,  and 
checked  his  steps  ;  soon  he  ran  headlong  to  the  shore, 
crying  and  praying:  "  By  the  stars  I  adjure  you,  by 
the  powers  above,  by  this  blessed  light  of  heaven  we 
breathe,  take  me  with  you,  Teucrians  ;  carry  me  off  to 
any  land  you  will ;  this  will  be  enough.  I  know  I  am 
one  of  the  Danaan  crews ;  I  own  that  I  carried  war 
into  your  Trojan  homes  ;  for  which,  if  the  guilt  of  my 
crime  is  so  black,  fling  me  piecemeal  to  the  waves, 
drown  me  deep  in  the  great  sea.  If  I  am  to  die,  there 
will  be  pleasure  in  dying  by  the  hands  of  men."  His 
speech  was  over,  and  he  was  clinging  about  us,  clasp- 
ing our  knees,  and  writhing  round  them.  We  encour- 
age him  to  tell  us  who  he  is,  of  what  race  sprung,  to 
reveal  what  fortune  has  since  made  him  its  sport.  My 
father,  Anchises,  after  no  long  pause,  himself  gives  his 
hand  to  the  3'outh,  and  reassures  him  b}"  the  powerful 
pledge.  He  at  length  lays  aside  his  fear,  and  speaks 
as  follows :  — 

'  ^'  I  come  from  Ithaca,  a  comrade  of  the  ill-starred 
Ulysses,  my  name  Achemenides.  I  went  to  Troy,  leav- 
ing my  father,  Adamastus,  who  was  poor.  Would  that 
his  lot  had  remained  mine!  Here,  in  their  hurry  to 
leave  the  door  of  the  slaughter-house,  my  comrades  for- 
got me,  and  so  left  me  behind  in  the  Cyclops'  enormous 
den.  It  is  a  house  of  gore  and  bloody  feasting,  deep, 
and  dark,  and  huge ;  its  master  towers  aloft,  and 
strikes  the  stars  on  high  (ye  gods,  remove  from  the 
earth  a  plague  like  this !),  whom  no  eye  rests  on  with 
pleasure,  no  tongue  dare  accost.  The  flesh  of  wretched 
men  and  their  black  blood  are  the  food  he  feeds  on. 


200  THE  ^NEID. 

These  eyes  saw,  when  two  bodies  from  our  company, 
caught  by  his  huge  hand,  as  he  threw  back  his  head  in 
the  midst  of  the  den,  were  being  brained  against  the 
rock,  and  the  floor  was  plashed  and  swimming  with 
blood  —  thej^  saw,  when  he  was  crunching  their  hmbs, 
dripping  with  black  gore,  and  the  warm  joints  were 
quivering  under  his  teeth.  He  did  it,  but  not  unpun- 
ished. Ulysses  was  not  the  man  to  brook  a  deed  like 
this ;  the  brain  of  Ithaca  was  not  wanting  to  itself 
when  the  need  was  so  great.  For  soon  as,  gorged  with 
his  food  and  buried  in  wine,  he  bent  and  dropped  his 
neck,  and  lay  all  along  the  den  in  unmeasured  length, 
belching  out  gore  in  his  sleep,  and  gobbets  mixed  with 
bloody  wine  ;  then  we,  having  made  our  prayer  to  the 
great  gods  and  drawn  our  places  by  lot,  surround 
him  on  all  sides  as  one  man,  and  with  a  sharp  weapon 
bore  out  his  eye,  that  vast  ej^e,  which  used  to  lie  single 
and  sunk  under  his  grim  brow,*  and  thus  at  last  take 
triumphant  vengeance  for  our  comrades'  shades.  But 
fly,  unhappy  men,  fly,  and  tear  your  cable  from  the 
shore.  For  hideous  and  huge  as  is  Polyphemus,  fold- 
ing in  his  den  his  woolly  flocks  and  pressing  their  ud- 
ders, as  hideous  and  huge  are  a  hundred  others  that 
dwell  everywhere  along  this  coast,  monster  Cyclops, 
and  stalk  over  the  tall  mountains.  It  is  now  the  third 
moon,  whose  horns  are  filling  out  with  light,  that  I  am 
dragging  along  my  life  in  the  woods,  among  the  lonely 
lairs  where  wild  beasts  dwell,  and  looking  forth  on  the 
huge  Cyclops  as  they  stalk  from  rock  to  rock,  and 
trembling  at  their  tread  and  at  the  sound  of  their  voices. 
M}^  wretched  fare,  berries  and  stony  cornels,  is  sup- 
plied by  the  boughs,  and  herbage  uprooted  yields  me 
food.  As  I  turned  my  eyes  all  about,  this  fleet  of 
*  Another  hne  omitted  in  the  translation.  —  [Ed.] 


BOOK  IIL  201 

yours  at  last  I  saw  advancing  to  the  shore  ;  with  this, 
prove  it  what  might,  I  cast  in  my  lot ;  it  is  enough  to 
have  escaped  this  race  of  monsters.  Sooner  do  you 
destroy  this  life  by  any  death  you  please." 

'  Scarce  had  he  ended,  when  on  the  mountain-top  we 
see  the  giant  himself,  moving  along  with  his  enormous 
bulk  among  his  cattle,  and  making  for  the  well-known 
shore  —  a  monster  dreadful,  hideous,  huge,  with  his 
eye  extinguished.  A  pine,  lopped  by  his  own  hand, 
guides  him  and  steadies  his  footsteps.  His  woolly 
sheep  accompany  him  —  there  is  his  sole  pleasure,  the 
solace  of  his  suffering.  After  he  had  touched  the 
waves  of  the  deep  and  come  to  the  sea,  he  washes  with 
its  water  the  gore  that  trickles  from  his  scooped -out 
eye,  gnashing  his  teeth  with  a  groan ;  and  he  steps 
through  the  sea,  now  at  main  height,  while  the  wave 
has  not  yet  wetted  his  tall  sides.  We,  in  alarm,  hasten 
our  flight  from  the  place,  taking  on  board  the  suppliant, 
who  had  thus  made  good  his  claim,  and  silently  cut  the 
cable ;  then  throw  ourselves  forward,  and  with  emu- 
lous oars  sweep  along  the  sea.  He  perceived  it,  and 
turned  his  steps  towards  the  noise  he  heard.  But  when 
he  finds  he  has  no  means  of  grasping  at  us  with  his 
hand,  no  power  of  keeping  pace  with  the  Ionian  waves 
in  pursuit,  he  raises  a  gigantic  roar,  at  which  the  sea 
and  all  its  waters  trembled  inwardly,  and  the  land  of 
Italy  shuddered  to  its  core,  and  ^tna  bellowed  through 
her  winding  caverns.  But  the  tribe  of  the  Cyclops, 
startled  from  wood  and  lofty  mountain,  rush  to  the 
haven  and  fill  the  shore.  There  we  see  them  standing, 
each  with  the  empty  menace  of  his  grim  eye,  the  breth- 
ren of  ^tna,  lifting  their  tall  heads  to  heaven,  a  dire 
assemblage  —  like  as  on  some  tall  peak,  sk^yey  oaks  or 
cone-bearing  cypresses  stand  together,  a  lofty  forest  of 


202  THE  ^NEID. 

Jupiter,  or  a  grove  of  Diana.  Headlong  our  crews  are 
driven  b}'  keen  terror  to  fling  out  the  ropes  anywhither, 
and  stretch  their  sails  to  the  winds  that  would  catch 
them.  On  the  other  hand,  Helenus'  warning  bids  them 
not  to  hold  on  their  way  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis, 
a  passage  on  either  side  removed  but  a  hair's  breadth 
from  death  ;  so  our  purpose  stands  to  spread  our  sails 
backward.  "When  lo  !  the  north  wind  is  upon  us,  sped 
from  Pelorus'  narrow  strait.  On  I  fly,  past  Pantagia's 
mouth  of  living  rock,  and  the  bay  of  Megara,  and  low- 
lying  Thapsus.  Such  were  the  coasts  named  to  us  by 
Achemenides,  as  he  retraced  his  former  wanderings  — 
Achemenides,  comrade  of  the  ill-starred  Ulysses. 

'  Stretched  before  the  Sicanian  bay  lies  an  island, 
over  against  Plemyrium  the  billowy  —  former  ages 
named  it  Ortj'gia.  Hither,  the  legend  is,  Alpheus,  the 
river  of  Elis,  made  himself  a  secret  passage  under  the 
sea  ;  and  he  now,  through  thj^  mouth,  Arethusa,  blends 
with  the  waters  of  Sicil3\  Obedient  to  command,  we 
worship  the  mighty  gods  of  the  place  ;  and  from  thence 
I  pass  the  over-rich  soil  of  Helorus  the  marshy.  Hence 
we  skirt  the  tall  crags  and  jutting  rocks  of  Pachj^nus, 
and  Camarina  is  seen  in  the  distance.  Camarina,  which 
the  oracle  gave  no  man  leave  to  disturb,  and  the  plains 
of  Gela,  and  Gela  itself,  mighty  cit}-,  called  from  the 
stream  that  laves  it.  Next  Acragas  the  craggy  dis- 
plays from  afar  its  lofty  walls,  one  day  the  breeder  of 
generous  steeds.  Thee,  too,  I  leave,  by  favor  of  the 
winds,  palmy  Selinus,  and  pick  my  way  through  the 
sunk  rocks  that  make  Lilybeium's  waters  perilous. 
Hence  Drepanum  receives  me,  with  its  haven  and  its 
joyless  coast.  Here,  after  so  many  storms  on  the  sea 
had  done  their  worst,  woe  is  me  !  I  lose  him  that  had 
made  every  care  and  danger  light,  my  father,  Anchises. 


BOOK  IV.  203 

Here,  best  of  sires,  you  leave  jour  son,  lone  and  wear}', 
you,  who  had  been  snatched  from  those  fearful  dangers, 
alas  !  in  vain.  Helenus,  the  seer,  among  the  thousand 
horrors  he  foretold,  warned  me  not  of  this  agony  ;  no, 
nor  dread  Celseno.  This  was  m}^  last  suffering,  this 
the  goal  of  my  long  journey ings.  It  was  on  parting 
hence  that  Heaven  drove  me  on  your  coast.* 

Thus  father  ^neas,  alone,  amid  the  hush  of  all 
around,  was  recounting  Heaven's  destined  dealings, 
and  teUing  of  his  voyages ;  and  now,  at  length,  he  was 
silent,  made  an  end,  and  took  his  rest. 


BOOK  IV. 

But  the  queen,  pierced  long  since  by  love's  cruel 
shaft,  is  feeding  the  wound  with  her  life-blood,  and 
wasting  under  a  hidden  fire.  Man}^  times  the  hero's 
own  worth  comes  back  to  her  mind,  many  times  the 
glory  of  his  race  ;  his  every  look  remains  imprinted  on 
her  breast,  and  his  every  word,  nor  will  trouble  let 
soothing  sleep  have  access  to  her  frame. 

The  dawn-goddess  of  the  iporrow  was  surveying  the 
earth  with  Phoebus'  torch  in  her  hand,  and  had  already 
withdrawn  the  dewy  shadow  from  the  sky,  when  she, 
sick  of  soul,  thus  bespoke  the  sister  whose  heart  was 
one  with  hers  :  —  '  Anna,  my  sister,  what  dreams  are 
these  that  confound  and  appall  me  ?  Who  is  this  new 
guest  that  has  entered  our  door?  What  a  face  and 
carriage  !  What  strength  of  breast  and  shoulders  !  I 
do  believe  —  it  is  no  mere  fancy  —  that  he  has  the 
blood  of  gods  in  his  veins.  An  ignoble  soul  is  known 
by  the  coward's  brand.     Ah!   by  what  fates  he  has 


204  THE  yENEID. 

been  tossed!  What  wars  he  was  recounting,  every 
pang  of  them  borne  by  himself!  Were  it  not  the 
fixed,  immovable  purpose  of  my  mind  never  to  consent 
to  join  myself  with  any  in  wedlock's  bands,  since  my 
first  love  played  me  false  and  made  me  the  dupe  of 
death  —  had  I  not  been  weary  of  bridal  bed  and  nup- 
tial torch,  perchance  I  might  have  stooped  to  this  one 
reproach.  Anna  —  for  I  will  own  the  truth  —  since 
the  fate  of  S3'ch8eus,  my  poor  husband  —  since  the 
sprinkling  of  the  gods  of  my  home  with  the  blood 
my  brother  shed,  he  and  he  only  has  touched  my  heart 
and  shaken  my  resolution  till  it  totters.  I  recognize 
the  traces  of  the  old  flame.  But  first  I  would  pray  that 
earth  may  3'awn  for  me  from  her  foundations,  or  the 
all-powerful  sire  hurl  me  thunder-stricken  to  the  shades, 
to  the  wan  shades  of  Erebus  and  ab^^smal  night,  ere  I 
violate  thee,  my  woman's  honor,  or  unknit  the  bonds 
thou  tiest.  He  who  first  wedded  me,  he  has  carried 
off  my  heart  —  let  him  keep  it  all  his  own,  and  retain 
it  in  his  grave.'  Thus  having  said,  she  deluged  her 
bosom  with  a  burst  of  tears. 

Anna  replies  :  —  '  Sweet  love,  dearer  than  the  light 
to  your  sister's  ej'e,  are  you  to  pine  and  grieve  in  lone- 
liness through  life's  long  spring,  nor  know  aught  of  a 
mother's  joy  in  her  children,  nor  of  the  prizes  Venus 
gives  ?  Think  3'ou  that  dead  ashes  and  ghosts  low  in 
the  grave  take  this  to  heart?  Grant  that  no  husbands 
have  touched  3'our  bleeding  heart  in  times  gone  by, 
none  now  in  Libya,  none  before  in  Tjtc  ;  yes,  larbas 
has  been  slighted,  and  the  other  chieftains  whom  Afric, 
rich  in  triumphs,  rears  as  its  own — will  3'ou  fight 
against  a  welcome,  no  less  than  an  unwelcome  passion? 
Nor  does  it  cross  your  mind  in  whose  territories  you 
are  settled?     On  one  side  the  cities  of  the  Gaetulians, 


BOOK  IK  205 

a  race  invincible  in  war,  and  the  Numidians  environ 
3"ou,  unbridled  as  their  steeds,  and  the  inhospitable 
Syrtis  ;  on  another,  a  region  unpeopled  by  drought, 
and  the  wide-spread  barbarism  of  the  nation  of  Barce. 
What  need  to  talk  of  the  war-cloud  threatening  from 
T3^re,  and  the  menaces  of  our  brother?  It  is  under 
Heaven's  auspices,  I  deem,  and  by  Juno's  blessing, 
that  the  vessels  of  Ilion  have  made  this  voyage  hither. 
What  a  cit}^,  my  sister,  will  ours  become  before  your 
eyes  !  what  an  empire  will  grow  out  of  a  marriage  like 
this !  With  the  arms  of  the  Teucrians  at  its  back,  to 
what  a  height  will  the  glory  of  Carthage  soar !  Only 
be  it  3'ours  to  implore  the  favor  of  Heaven,  and  having 
won  its  acceptance,  give  free  course  to  hospitality  and 
weave  a  chain  of  pleas  for  delaj^,  while  the  tempest  is 
raging  its  full  on  the  sea,  and  Orion,  the  star  of  rain, 
while  his  ships  are  still  battered,  and  the  rigor  of  the 
sk}"  still  un3ielding.'  By  these  words  she  added  fresh 
fuel  to  the  fire  of  love,  gave  confidence  to  her  wavering 
mind,  and  loosed  the  ties  of  woman's  honor. 

First  they  approach  the  temples  and  inquire  for  par- 
don from  altar  to  altar ;  duly  they  slaughter  chosen 
sheep  to  Ceres  the  lawgiver,  to  Phoebus,  and  to  father 
Lyseus  —  above  all  to  Juno,  who  makes  marriage  bonds 
her  care.  Dido  herself,  in  all  her  beaut}',  takes  a  goblet 
in  her  hand,  and  pours  it  out  full  between  the  horns  of  a 
heifer  of  gleaming  white,  or  moves  majestic  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  gods  towards  the  richlj^-laden  altars,  and 
solemnizes  the  day  with  offerings,  and  gazing  greedily 
on  the  victims'  opened  breasts,  consults  the  entrails  3'et 
quivering  with  life.  Alas  !  how  blind  are  the  eyes  of 
seers !  What  can  vows,  what  can  temples  do  for  the 
madness  of  love  ?  All  the  while  a  flame  is  preying  on 
the  very  marrow  of  her  bones,  and  deep  in  her  breast 


206  THE  ^NEID. 

a  wound  keeps  noiselessly  alive.  She  is  on  fire,  the  ill- 
fated  Dido,  and  in  her  madness  ranges  the  whole  city 
through,  like  a  doe  from  an  arrow-shot,  whom,  un- 
guarded in  the  thick  of  the  Cretan  woods,  a  shepherd, 
chasing  her  with  his  darts,  has  pierced  from  a  distance, 
and  left  the  flying  steel  in  the  wound,  unknowing  of  his 
prize ;  she  at  full  speed  scours  the  forests  and  lawns  of 
Dicte ;  the  deadly  reed  still  sticks  in  her  sfde.  Now 
she  leads  ^neas  with  her  through  the  heart  of  the 
town,  and  displays  the  wealth  of  Sidon,  and  the  city 
built  to  dwell  in.  She  begins  to  speak,  and  stops  mid- 
way in  the  utterance.  Now,  as  the  day  fades,  she 
seeks  again  the  banquet  of  yesterday,  and  once  more  in 
frenzy  asks  to  hear  of  the  agonies  of  Troy,  and  hangs 
once  more  on  his  lips  as  he  tells  the  tale.  Afterwards, 
when  the  guests  are  gone,  and  the  dim  moon  in  turn  is 
hiding  her  light,  and  the  setting  stars  invite  to  slumber, 
alone  she  mourns  in  the  empty  hall,  and  presses  the 
couch  he  has  just  left ;  him  far  away  she  sees  and  hears, 
herself  far  away ;  or  holds  Ascanius  long  in  her  lap, 
spellbound  by  his  father's  image,  to  cheat,  if  she  can, 
her  ungovernable  passion.  The  towers  that  were  rising 
rise  no  longer ;  the  j'outh  ceases  to  practice  arms,  or  to 
make  ready  havens  and  bulwarks  for  safety  in  war ;  the 
works  are  broken  and  suspended,  the  giant  frowning  of 
the  walls,  and  the  engine  level  with  the  sky. 

Soon  as  Jove's  loved  wife  saw  that  she  was  so  mas- 
tered by  the  plague,  and  that  good  name  could  not  stand 
in  the  face  of  passion,  she,  the  daughter  of  Saturn,  be- 
speaks Venus  thus :  —  '  Brilliant  truly  is  the  praise, 
ample  the  spoils  you  are  carrying  off,  you  and  your  boy 
—  great  and  memorable  the  fame,  if  the  plots  of  two  gods 
have  really  conquered  one  woman.  No  ;  I  am  not  so 
blind  either  to  your  fears  of  my  city,  to  your  suspicions 


BOOK  IV.  207 

of  the  open  doors  of  my  statety  Carthage.  But  when 
is  this  to  end  ?  or  what  call  now  for  such  terrible  con- 
tention ?  Suppose  for  a  change  we  establish  perpetual 
peace  and  a  firm  marriage  bond.  You  have  gained 
what  your  whole  heart  went  to  seek.  Dido  is  ablaze 
with  love,  and  the  madness  is  coursing  through  her 
frame.  Jointly  then  let  us  rule  this  nation,  each  with 
full  sovereignty ;  let  her  stoop  to  be  the  slave  of  a 
Phrygian  husband,  and  make  over  her  Tyrians  in  place 
of  dowrj'  to  3'our  control.' 

,  To  her  —  for  she  saw  that  she  had  spoken  with  a 
feigned  intent,  meaning  to  divert  the  Italian  empire  to 
the  coast  of  Lib3^a  —  Yenus  thus  replied  :  —  '  Who 
would  be  so  mad  as  to  spurn  offers  like  these,  and  pre- 
fer your  enmity  to  your  friendship,  were  it  but  certain 
that  the  issue  you  name  would  bring  good  fortune  in 
its  train  ?  But  I  am  groping  blindly  after  destiny  — 
whether  it  be  Jupiter's  will  that  the  Tj^ians  and  the 
voyagers  from  Troy  should  have  one  city  —  whether 
he  would  have  the  two  nations  blended  and  a  league 
made  between  them.  You  are  his  wife ;  it  is  3'our 
place  to  approach  him  b}^  entreaty.  Go  on,  I  will  fol- 
low.' Imperial  Juno  rejoined  thus  :  —  '  That  task  shall 
rest  with.  me.  Now,  in  what  way  our  present  purpose 
can  be  contrived,  lend  me  3'our  attention,  and  I  will 
explain  in  brief,  ^neas  and  Dido,  poor  sufferer !  are 
proposing  to  go  hunting  in  the  forest,  when  first  to- 
morrow's sun  displays  his  rising,  and  with  his  beams 
uncurtains  the  globe.  On  them  I  will  pour  from  above 
a  black  storm  of  mingled  rain  and  hail,  just  when  the 
horsemen  are  all  astir,  and  spreading  their  toils  before 
the  wood- walks,  and  the  whole  heaven  shall  be  con- 
vulsed with  thunder.  The  train  shall  fly  here  and  there, 
and  be  lost  in  the  thick  darkness.     Dido  and  the  Tro- 


208  THE  JENEID. 

jan  chief  shall  find  themselves  in  the  same  cave.  I 
will  be  there,  and,  if  I  may  count  on  your  sanction, 
will  unite  her  to  him  in  lasting  wedlock,  and  conse- 
crate her  his  for  life.  Thus  shall  Hymen  give  us  his 
presence.*  The  Queen  of  Cythera  makes  no  demur, 
but  nods  assent,  smiling  at  the  trick  she  has  found  out. 
Meanwhile  Aurora  has  risen,  and  left  the  oc^an. 
Rising  with  the  day-star,  the  chivalrj-  of  Carthage 
streams  through  the  gates,  their  woven  toils,  and  nets, 
and  hunting-spears  tipped  with  broad  iron,  and  Mas- 
sylian  horsemen  hurry  along,  and  a  force  of  keen- 
scented  hounds.  There  are  the  Punic  princes,  waiting 
for  the  queen,  who  still  lingers  in  her  chamber ;  there 
stands  her  palfrey,  conspicuous  in  purple  and  gold, 
fiercely  champing  the  foaming  bit.  At  length  she  comes 
forth,  with  a  mighty  train  attending,  a  T^'rian  scarf 
round  her,  itself  surrounded  by  an  embroidered  border  ; 
her  quiver  of  gold,  her  hair  knotted  up  wdth  gold,  her 
purple  robe  fastened  with  a  golden  clasp.  The  Phrj^- 
gian  train,  too,  are  in  motion,  and  lulus,  all  exultation, 
^neas  himself,  comelj^  be3^ond  all  the  rest,  adds  his 
presence  to  theirs,  and  joins  the  procession ;  like 
Apollo,  when  he  leaves  his  Lycian  winter-seat  and  the 
stream  of  Xanthus,  and  visits  Delos,  his  mother's  isle, 
and  renews  the  dance  ;  while  with  mingled  voices  round 
the  altar  shout  Cretans  and  Dr3'opians,  and  tattooed 
Agathyrsians.  The  god  in  majesty  walks  on  the 
heights  of  Cynthus,  training  his  luxuriant  hair  with  the 
soft  pressure  of  a  wreath  of  leaves,  and  twining  it 
with  gold ;  his  arrows  rattle  on  his  shoulders.  Not 
with  less  ease  than  he  moved  ^neas  ;  such  the  beauty 
that  sparkles  in  that  peerless  countenance.  When 
they  reach  the  high  mountains  and  the  pathless  coverts, 
see!   the  wild  goats,  dropping  from  the  tops  of  the 


BOOK  IV,  209 

crags,  have  run  down  the  slopes ;  in  another  quarter 
the  deer  are  scouring  the  open  plains,  massing  their 
herds  as  the}^  fly  in  a  whirlwind  of  dust,  and  leaving 
the  mountains.  But  j^oung  Ascanius  is  in  the  heart 
of  the  glens,  exulting  in  his  fiery  courser.  Now  he 
passes  one,  now  another  of  his  comrades  at  full  speed, 
and  pra3^s  that  in  the  midst  of  such  spiritless  game  he 
ma}^  be  blest  with  the  sight  of  a  foaming  boar,  or  that 
a  tawny  lion  ma}'  come  down  the  hill.  Meantime  the 
sky  begins  to  be  convulsed  with  a  mighty  turmoil ;  a 
storm-cloud  follows  of  mingled  rain  and  hail.  The 
T3Tian  train,  all  in  confusion,  and  the  chivalry  of  Troy, 
and  the  hope  of  Dardania,  Venus'  grandson,  have 
sought  shelter  in  their  terror  up  and  down  the  country, 
some  here,  some  there.  The  streams  run  in  torrents 
down  the  hills.  Dido  and  the  Trojan  chief  find  them- 
selves in  the  same  cave.  Earth,  the  mother  of  all,  and 
Juno  give  the  sign. 

Lightnings  blaze,  and  heaven  flashed  in  sympathy 
with  the  bridal ;  and  from  mountain-tops  the  nymphs 
give  the  nuptial  shout.  That  day  was  the  birthday  of 
death,  the  birthda}"  of  woe.  Henceforth  she  has  no 
thought  for  the  common  ej^e,  or  the  common  tongue ; 
it  is  not  a  stolen  passion  that  Dido  has  now  in  her  mind 
—  no,  she  calls  it  marriage  ;  that  name  is  the  screen  of 
her  sin. 

Instantly  Fame  takes  her  journey  through  Libya's 
great  cities  —  Fame,  a  monster  surpassed  in  speed  by 
none ;  her  nimbleness  lends  her  life,  and  she  gains 
strength  as  she  goes.  At  first  fear  keeps  her  low; 
soon  she  rears  herself  skj^ward,  and  treads  on  the 
ground,  while  her  head  is  hidden  among  the  clouds. 
Earth,  her  parent,  provoked  to  anger  against  the  gods, 
brought  her  forth,  they  say,  the  youngest  of  the  family 
14 


210  THE  ^NEID. 

of  Coeus  and  Enceladns  —  swift  of  foot  and  untiring 
of  wing,  a  portent  terrible  and  vast  —  who,  for  every 
feather  on  her  body  has  an  ever-wakeful  ej^e  beneath, 
marvelous  to  tell,  for  every  eye  a  loud  tongue  and 
mouth,  and  a  pricked-up  ear.  At  night  she  flies  mid- 
way between  heaven  and  earth,  hissing  through  the 
darkness,  nor  ever  yields  her  ejxs  to  the  sweets  of 
sleep.  In  the  daj-light  she  sits  sentinel  on  a  high  house- 
top, or  on  a  loft}^  turret,  and  makes  great  cities  afraid  ; 
as  apt  to  cling  to  falsehood  and  wrong  as  to  proclaim 
the  truth.  So  then  she  was  filling  the  public  ear 
with  a  thousand  tales  —  things  done  and  things  never 
done  alike  the  burden  of  her  song  — how  that  ^neas, 
a  prince  of  Trojan  blood,  had  arrived  at  Carthage,  a 
hero  whom  lovely  Dido  deigned  to  make  her  hus- 
band, and  now  in  luxurious  ease  they  were  wearing 
away  the  length  of  winter  together,  forgetful  of  the 
crowns  they  wore  or  hoped  to  wear,  and  enthralled  by 
unworthy  passion.  Such  are  the  tales  the  fiendlike 
goddess  spreads  from  tongue  to  tongue.  Then,  in  due 
course,  she  turns  her  steps  to  King  larbas,  and  in- 
flames him  with  her  rumors,  and  piles  his  indignation 
high.  He,  the  son  of  Ammon,  from  the  ravished  em- 
brace of  a  Garamantian  nymph,  built  within  his  broad 
realms  a  hundred  temples  to  Jove,  and  in  each  temple 
an  altar ;  there  he  had  consecrated  an  ever-wakeful 
fire,  the  god's  unsleeping  sentrj^,  a  floor  thick  with 
victims'  blood,  and  doors  wreathed  with  particolored 
garlands.  And  he,  frenzied  in  soul,  and  stung  by  the 
bitter  tidings,  is  said,  as  he  stood  before  the  altars,  with 
the  majesty  of  Heaven  all  around  him,  to  have  prayed 
long  and  earnestly  to  Jove  with  upturned  hands :  — 
*  Jove,  the  Almightj^,  to  whom  in  this  my  reign  the 
Moorish  race,  feasting  on  embroidered  couches,  pour 


BOOK  IV.  211 

out  the  offering  of  the  vintage,  seest  thou  this  ?  or  is 
our  dread  of  thee,  Father,  when  thou  hurlest  thy 
lightnings,  an  idle  panic?  are  those  aimless  fires  in 
the  clouds  that  appall  us  ?  have  their  confused  rum- 
blings no  meaning?  See  here  :  a  woman,  who,  wander- 
ing in  our  territories,  bought  leave  to  build  a  petty 
town,  to  whom  we  made  over  a  strip  of  land  for  till- 
age, with  its  rights  of  lordship,  she  has  rejected  an 
alliance  with  us,  and  received  ^neas  into  her  king- 
dom, to  be  its  lord  and  hers.  And  now  that  second 
Paris,  with  his  emasculate  following,  a  Mseonian  cap 
supporting  his  chin  and  his  essenced  hair,  is  enjoying 
his  prize,  while  we,  forsooth,  are  making  offerings 
to  temples  of  thine,  and  keeping  alive  an  idle  rumor.' 
Thus  as  he  prayed,  his  hands  grasping  the  altar,  the 
almighty  one  heard  him,  and  turned  his  e3'es  to  the 
queenly  city  and  the  guilty  pair,  lost  to  their  better 
fame.  Then  thus  he  bespeaks  Mercury,  and  gives  him 
a  charge  like  this  :  —  '  Go,  haste,  my  son,  summon  the 
Zephyrs,  and  float  on  thy  wings ;  address  the  Dardan 
chief,  who  is  now  dallying  in  Tyrian  Carthage  and 
giving  no  thought  to  the  city  which  Destiny  makes  his 
own ;  carry  him  my  commands  through  the  flying  air. 
It  was  not  a  man  like  that  whom  his  beauteous  mother 
promised  us  in  him,  and  on  the  strength  of  her  word 
twice  rescued  him  from  the  sword  of  Greece.  No,  he 
was  to  be  one  who  should  govern  Italy  —  Ital}^  with  its 
brood  of  unborn  empires,  and  the  war-cry  bursting  from 
its  heart  —  who  should  carry  down  a  line  sprung  from 
the  grand  fountain-head  of  Teucer's  blood,  and  should 
force  the  whole  world  to  bow  to  the  laws  he  makes. 
If  he  is  fired  by  no  spark  of  ambition  for  greatness 
like  this,  and  will  not  rear  a  toilsome  fabric  for  his  own 
praise,  is  it  a  father's  heart  that  grudges  Ascanius  the 


212  THE  ^NEID, 

hills  of  Rome  ?  What  is  he  building  ?  What  does  he 
look  to  in  lingering  on  among  a  nation  of  enemies,  with 
no  thought  for  the  great  Ausonian  familj^,  or  for  the 
fields  of  Lavinium  ?  Away  with  him  to  sea  !  This  is 
our  sentence  ;  thus  far  be  our  messenger.' 

Jove  had  spoken,  and  Mercury  was  preparing  to 
execute  the  great  sire's  command  :  first  he  binds  to  his 
feet  his  sandals,  all  of  gold,  which  carry  him,  uplifted 
by  their  pinions,  over  sea  no  less  than  land,  with  the 
swiftness  of  the  wind  that  wafts  him.  Then  he  takes 
his  rod  —  the  rod  with  which  he  is  wont  to  call  up 
pale  specters  from  the  place  of  death  —  to  send  others 
on  their  melancholy  way  to  Tartarus,  to  give  sleep  or 
take  it  away,  and  to  open  the  eyes  when  death  is  past. 
With  this  in  hand,  he  drives  the  winds  before  him,  and 
makes  a  path  through  the  sea  of  clouds.  And  now  in 
his  flight  he  espies  the  crest  and  the  tall  sides  of  Atlas 
the  rugged,  who  with  his  top  supports  the  sky — Atlas, 
whose  pine-crowned  head,  ever  wreathed  with  dark 
clouds,  is  buffeted  by  wind  and  rain.  A  mantle  of 
snow  wraps  his  shoulders  ;  rivers  tumble  from  his  hoary 
chin,  and  his  grisly  beard  is  stiff  with  ice.  Here  first 
Cyllene's  god  poised  himself  on  his  wings  and  rested ; 
then  from  his  stand  stooping  his  whole  body,  he  sent 
himselt  headlong  to  the  sea,  hke  a  bird  which  haunting 
the  coast  and  the  fish}"  rocks  flies  low,  close  to  the 
water.  Even  so  was  he  flying  between  earth  and 
heaven,  between  Libj^a's  sand}-  coast  and  the  winds 
that  swept  it,  leaving  his  mother's  father  behind,  him- 
self Cyllene's  progeny. 

Soon  as  his  winged  feet  alit  among  the  huts  of  Car- 
thage, he  sees  ^neas  founding  towers  and  making 
houses  new.  A  sword  was  at  his  side,  starred  with 
yellow  jaspers,  and  a  mantle  drooped  from  his  shoul- 


BOOK  IV.  213 

ders,  ablaze  with  TjTian  purple  —  a  costly  gift  which 
Dido  had  made,  varying  the  web  with  threads  of  gold. 
Instantly  he  assails  him  :  —  '  And  are  you  at  a  time 
like  this  laying  the  foundations  of  stately  Carthage, 
and  building,  like  a  fond  husband,  j^our  wife's  goodly 
city,  forgetting,  alas  !  your  own  kingdom  and  the  cares 
that  should  be  yours  ?  It  is  no  less  than  the  ruler  of 
the  gods  who  sends  me  down  to  you  from  his  bright 
Olympus  —  he  whose  nod  sways  heaven  and  earth ;  it 
is  he  that  bids  me  carry  his  commands  through  the 
flying  air.  What  are  you  building  ?  what  do  you  look 
to  in  squandering  your  leisure  in  Libyan  land?  If  you 
are  fired  by  no  spark  of  ambition  for  the  greatness  in 
your  view,  and  will  not  rear  a  toilsome  fabric  for  your 
own  praise,  think  of  Ascanius  rising  into  youth,  think 
of  lulus,  your  heir  and  j^our  hope,  to  whom  you  owe 
the  crown  of  Italy  and  the  realm  of  Rome.*  With 
these  words  Cyllene's  god  quitted  mortal  sight  ere  he 
had  well  ceased  to  speak,  and  vanished  away  from  the 
e3'e  into  unsubstantial  air. 

The  sight  left  ^neas  dumb  and  aghast  indeed  ;  his 
hair  stood  shudderingly  erect ;  his  speech  clave  to  his 
throat.  He  burns  to  take  flight  and  leave  the  land  of 
pleasure,  as  his  ears  ring  with  the  thunder  of  Heaven's 
imperious  warning.  What  —  ah  !  what  is  he  to  do  ? 
with  what  address  can  he  now  dare  to  approach  the 
impassioned  queen  ?  what  first  advances  can  he  employ  ? 
And  tlius  he  dispatches  his  rapid  thought  hither  and 
thither,  hurrying  it  east  and  west,  and  sweeping  every 
corner  of  the  field.  So  balancing,  at  last  he  thought 
this  judgment  the  best.  He  calls  Mnestheus  and  Ser- 
gestus  and  brave  Serestus  ;  bids  them  quietly  get  ready 
the  fleet,  muster  the  crews  on  the  shore,  with  their  arms 
in  their  hands,  hiding  the  reason   for  so   sudden   a 


214  THE  jENEID. 

change.  Meantime  he,  while  Dido,  kindest  of  friends, 
is  in  ignorance,  deeming  love's  chain  too  strong  to  be 
snapped,  will  feel  his  way,  and  find  what  are  the  hap- 
piest moments  for  speech,  what  the  right  hold  to  take 
of  circumstance.  At  once  all  gladly  obe}^  his  com- 
mand, and  are  busj'  on  the  tasks  enjoined. 

But  the  queen  (who  can  cheat  a  lover's  senses?) 
scented  the  plot,  and  caught  the  first  sound  of  the 
coming  stir,  alive  to  fear  in  the  midst  of  safety.  Fame, 
as  before,  the  same  baleful  fiend,  whispered  in  her 
frenzied  ear  that  the  fleet  was  being  equipped  and  the 
voyage  got  ready.  She  storms  in  impotence  of  soul, 
and,  all  on  fire,  goes  raving  through  the  city,  like  a 
Maenad  starting  up  at  the  rattle  of  the  sacred  emblems, 
when  the  triennial  orgies  lash  her  with  the  cry  of  Bac- 
chus, and  Cithseron's  yell  calls  her  into  the  night.  At 
length  she  thus  bespeaks  -^neas,  unaddressed  by 
him :  — 

'  To  hide,  3'es,  hide  your  enormous  crime,  perfidious 
wretch,  did  you  hope  tliat  might  be  done  —  to  steal 
away  in  silence  from  my  realm?  Has  our  love  no 
power  to  keep  you?  has  our  troth,  once  plighted,  none, 
nor  she  whom  you  doom  to  a  cruel  death,  your  Dido? 
Nay,  are  you  fitting  out  j^our  fleet  with  winter's  sky 
overhead,  and  hastening  to  cross  the  deep  in  the  face 
of  all  the  northern  winds,  hard-hearted  as  you  are? 
Wh}^  suppose  you  were  not  seeking  a  strange  clime 
and  a  home  you  know  not  —  suppose  old  Troy  were 
still  standing  —  would  even  Troy  draw  you  to  seek  her 
across  a  billowy  sea?  Flying,  and  from  me  !  By  the 
tears  I  shed,  and  by  your  plighted  hand,  since  my  own 
act,  alas !  has  left  me  naught  else  to  plead  —  by  our 
union  —  by  the  nuptial  rites  thus  prefaced  —  if  I  have 
ever  deserved  well  of  you,  or  aught  of  mine  ever  gave 


BOOK  IV.  215 

3^011  pleasure  —  have  pity  on  a  falling  house,  and  strip 
off,  I  conjure  you,  if  prayer  be  not  too  late,  the  mind 
that  clothes  3'ou.  It  is  owing  to  3'ou  that  the  Lib^'an 
tribes  and  the  Nomad  chiefs  hate  me,  that  m}'  own 
Tyrians  are  estranged ;  owing  to  you,  yes,  3'ou,  that 
my  woman's  honor  has  been  put  out,  and  that  which 
was  m^'  one  passport  to  immortality^,  my  former  fame. 
To  whom  are  jrou  abandoning  a  dying  woman,  mj' 
guest  ?  —  since  the  name  of  husband  has  dwindled  to 
that.  Wh}^  do  I  live  an^'  longer?  —  to  give  my  brother 
Pygmalion  time  to  batter  down  m^-  walls,  or  larbas  the 
Moor  to  carrj'  me  away  captive  ?  Had  I  but  borne  any 
offspring  of  30U  before  3'our  flight,  were  there  some 
tinj'  ^neas  to  plaj^  in  mj'  hall,  and  remind  me  of  3'ou, 
though  but  in  look,  I  should  not  then  feel  utterly  cap- 
tive and  forlorn.' 

She  ceased.  He  all  the  while,  at  Jove's  command, 
was  keeping  his  ej'es  unmoved,  and  shutting  up  in  his 
heart  his  great  love.  At  length  he  answers  in  brief:  — 
'  Fair  queen,  name  all  the  claims  to  gratitude  you  can. 
I  shall  never  gainsa}^  one,  nor  will  the  thought  of  Elissa 
ever  be  unwelcome  while  memory'  lasts,  while  breath 
animates  this  frame.  A  few  words  I  will  saj',  as  the 
case  admits.  I  never  counted  —  do  not  dream  it  —  on 
stealthily  concealing  m^-  flight.  I  never  came  with  a 
bridegroom's  torch  in  mj'  hand,  nor  was  this  the  alli- 
ance to  which  I  agreed.  For  me,  were  the  Fates  to 
suffer  me  to  live  under  a  star  of  my  own  choosing,  and 
to  make  with  care  the  terms  I  would,  the  city  of  Troy, 
first  of  all  the  dear  remains  of  what  was  mine,  would 
claim  m}'  tendance.  Priam's  tall  roof-tree  would  still 
be  standing,  and  my  hand  would  have  built  a  restored 
Pergamus,  to  solace  the  vanquished.  But  now  to 
princely   Italy   Grynean  Apollo,  to   Italy  his  Lyciau 


216  THE  ^NEID, 

oracles  bid  me  repair.  There  is  my  heart,  there  my 
fatherland.  If  you  are  riveted  here  by  the  sight  of  your 
stately  Carthage,  a  daughter  of  Phoenicia  by  a  Libyan 
town,  why,  I  would  ask,  should  jealousy  forbid  Teu- 
crians  to  settle  in  Ausonian  land?  We,  like  you,  have 
the  right  of  looking  for  a  foreign  realm.  There  is  my 
father  Anchises,  oft  as  night's  dewy  shades  invest  the 
earth,  oft  as  the  fiery  stars  arise,  warning  me  in  dreams 
and  appalling  me  by  his  troubled  presence.  There  is 
my  son  Ascanius,  and  the  wrongs  heaped  on  his  dear 
head  every  day  that  I  rob  him  of  the  crown  of  Hesperia, 
and  of  the  land  that  fate  makes  his.  Now,  too,  the 
messenger  of  the  gods,  sent  down  from  Jove  himself 
(I  swear  by  both  our  lives)  has  brought  me  orders 
through  the  flying  air.  With  my  own  eyes  I  saw  the 
god  in  clear  daj^light  entering  the  walls,  and  took  in 
his  words  with  the  ears  that  hear  you  now.  Cease  then 
to  haiTow  up  both  our  souls  by  3'our  reproaches :  my 
quest  of  Italy  is  not  of  my  own  motion.' 

Long  ere  he  had  done  this  speech  she  was  glaring  at 
him  askance,  rolling  her  eyes  this  way  and  that,  and 
scanning  the  whole  man  with  her  silent  glances,  and 
thus  she  bursts  forth  all  ablaze :  — '  No  goddess  was 
mother  of  yours,  no  Dardanus  the  head  of  your  line, 
perfidious  wretch !  —  no,  your  parent  was  CBjcasus, 
rugged  and  craggy,  and  HjTcanian  tigresses  put  their 
breasts  to  your  lips.  For  why  should  I  suppress  aught? 
or  for  what  worse  evil  hold  myself  in  reserve  ?  Did  he 
groan  when  I  wept  ?  did  he  move  those  hard  e3^es  ?  did 
he  yield  and  shed  tears,  or  pit}^  her  that  loved  him  ? 
What  first?  what  last?  Now,  neither  Juno,  queen  of 
all,  nor  Jove,  the  almighty  Father,  eyes  us  with  im- 
partial regard.  Nowhere  is  there  aught  to  trust  —  no- 
where.    A  shipwrecked  beggar,  I  welcomed  him,  and 


BOOK  IV,  217 

hiadty  gave  him  a  share  of  my  realm ;  his  lost  fleet,  his 
crews ^  I  brought  back  from  death's  door.  Ah !  Fury- 
sets  me  on  fire,  and  whirls  me  round !  Now,  prophet 
Apollo,  now  the  Lycian  oracles.  Now  the  messenger 
of  the  gods,  sent  down  by  Jove  himself,  bears  his  grim 
bidding  through  the  air !  Aye,  of  course,  that  is  the 
employment  of  the  powers  above,  those  the  cares  that 
break  their  repose !  I  retain  not  your  person,  nor 
refute  your  talk.  Go,  chase  Italy  with  the  winds  at 
your  back  ;  look  for  realms  with  the  whole  sea  between 
you.  I  have  hope  that  on  the  rocks  midway,  if  the 
gods  are  as  powerful  as  the}^  are  good,  you  will  drain 
the  cup  of  punishment,  with  Dido's  name  ever  on  your 
lips.  I  will  follow,  you  with  murky  fires  when  I  am  far 
away ;  and  when  cold  death  shall  have  parted  soul  and 
body,  my  shade  shall  haunt  you  everywhere.  Yes, 
wretch,  you  shall  suffer.  I  shall  hear  it  —  the  news  will 
reach  me  down  among  the  dead.'  So  saying,  she  snaps 
short  her  speech,  and  flies  with  loathing  from  the  da}"- 
light,  and  breaks  and  rushes  from  his  sight,  leaving  him 
hesitating,  and  fearing,  and  thinking  of  a  thousand  things 
to  say.  Her  maidens  support  her,  and  carry  her  sinking 
frame  into  her  marble  chamber,  and  lay  her  on  her  bed. 
But  good  JEneas,  though  yearning  to  solace  and  soothe 
her  agonized  spirit,  and  by  his  words  to  check  the  onset 
of  sorrow,  with  many  a  groan,  his  whole  soul  upheaved 
by  the  force  of  love,  goes  nevertheless  about  the  com- 
mands of  Heaven,  and  repairs  to  his  fleet.  The  Teu- 
crians  redouble  their  efforts,  and  along  the  whole  range 
of  the  shore  drag  their  tall  ships  down.  The  keels  are 
careened  and  floated.  They  carry  oars  with  their  leaves 
still  on,  and  timber  unfashioned  as  it  stood  in  the  woods, 
so  strong  their  eagerness  to  fly.  You  may  see  them  all 
in  motion,  streaming  from  every  part  of  the  city.    Even 


218  THE  JENEID. 

as  ants  when  they  are  sacking  a  huge  heap  of  wheat, 
provident  of  winter  days,  and  laying  up  the  plunder  in 
their  stores ;  a  black  column  is  seen  moving  through 
the  plain,  and  the}^  convey  their  booty  along  the  grass 
in  a  narrow  path :  some  are  putting  their  shoulders  to 
the  big  grains,  and  pushing  them  along ;  others  are 
rallying  the  force  and  punishing  the  stragglers ;  the 
whole  track  is  in  a  glow  of  work.  What  were  your 
feeUngs  then,  poor  Dido,  at  a  sight  hke  this !  How 
deep  the  groans  j^ou  heaved,  when  you  looked  out  from 
your  lofty  tower  on  a  beach  all  seething  and  swarming, 
and  saw  the  whole  sea  before  you  deafened  with  that 
hubbub  of  voices  !  Tyrant  love  !  what  force  dost  thou 
not  put  on  human  hearts?  Again  she  has  to  conde- 
scend to  tears,  again  to  use  the  weapons  of  entreaty, 
and  bow  her  spirit  in  suppliance  under  love's  yoke,  lest 
she  should  have  left  aught  untried,  and  be  rushing  on  a 
needless  death. 

'-  Anna,  you  see  there  is  hurrying  all  over  the  shore 
—  the}'  are  met  from  every  side  ;  the  canvas  is  already 
wooing  the  gale,  and  the  joyful  sailors  have  wreathed 
the  sterns.  If  I  have  had  the  foresight  to  anticipate  so 
heav3'  a  blow,  I  shall  have  the  power  to  bear  it  too,  my 
sister.  Yet,  Anna,  in  my  miserj',  perform  me  this  one 
service.  You,  and  you  onU',  the  perfidious  man  was 
wont  to  make  his  friend  —  aye,  even .  to  trust  you  with 
his  secret  thoughts.  You,  and  3'ou  only,  know  the 
subtle  approaches  to  his  heart,  and  the  times  of  essay- 
ing them.  Go,  then,  my  sister,  and  supplicate  our 
haughty  foe.  Tell  him  I  was  no  part}^  to  the  Danaan 
league  at  Aulis  to  destroy  the  Trojan  nation  ;  I  sent  no 
ships  to  Pergamus  ;  I  never  disinterred  his  father  An- 
chises,  his  dust  or  his  spirit.  Why  will  he  not  let  my 
words  sink  down  into  his  obdurate  ears  ?    Whither  is 


BOOK  IV.  219 

he  hurrying?  Let  him  grant  this  last  boon  to  her  who 
loves  him  so  wildly ;  let  him  wait  till  the  way  is 
smoothed  for  his  flight,  and  there  are  winds  to  waft 
him.  I  am  not  asking  him  now  to  renew  our  old  vows 
which  he  has  forsworn.  I  am  not  asking  him  to  forego 
his  fair  Latiiim,  and  resign  his  crown.  I  entreat  but  a 
few  vacant  hours,  a  respite  and  breathing-space  for  my 
passion,  till  mj-  fortune  shall  have  taught  baffled  love 
how  to  grieve.  This  is  my  last  request  of  you.  Oh, 
pity  your  poor  sister  !  —  a  request  which  when  granted 
shall  be  returned  with  interest  in  death.' 

Such  was  her  appeal — such  the  wailing  which  her 
afflicted  sister  bears  to  him,  and  bears  again  ;  but  no 
wailing  moves  him,  no  words  find  him  a  gentle  listener. 
Fate  bars  the  wa}^,  and  Heaven  closes  the  hero's  relent- 
ing ears.  Even  as  an  aged  oak,  still  hale  and  strong, 
which  Alpine  winds,  blowing  now  here,  now  there, - 
strive  emulously  to  uproot  —  a  loud  noise  is  heard, 
and,  as  the  stem  rocks,  heaps  of  leaves  pile  the  ground  ; 
but  the  tree  cleaves  firmly'  to  the  cliff;  high  as  its  head 
strikes  into  the  air,  so  deep  its  root  strikes  down  to  the 
abyss  —  even  thus  the  hero  is  assailed  on  all  sides  'hy  a 
storm  of  words  :  his  mighty  breast  thrills  through  and 
through  with  agony;  but  his  mind  is  unshaken,  and 
tears  are  showered  in  vain. 

Then  at  last,  maddened  by  her  destiny,  poor  Dido 
prays  for  death :  heaven's  vault  is  a  weariness  to  look 
on.  To  confirm  her  in  pursuing  her  intent,  and  closing 
her  eyes  on  the  sun,  she  saw,  as  she  was  laying  her 
offerings  on  the  incense-steaming  altars  —  horrible  to 
tell  —  the  sacred  liquor  turn  black,  and  the  streams  of 
wine  curdle  into  loathly  gore.  This  appearance  she 
told  to  none,  not  even  to  her  sister.  Moreover,  there 
was  in  her  palace  a  marble  chapel  to  her  former  bus- 


r 


220  THE  ^NEID. 

band,  to  which  she  u^d  to  pa}^  singular  honors,  wreath- 
ing it  with  snowy  fillets  and  festal  boughs  ;  from  it  she 
thought  she  heard  a  voice,  the  accents  of  the  dead  man 
calling  her,  when  the  darkness  of  night  was  shrouding 
'the  earth ;  and  on  the  roof  a  lonely  owl  in  funereal 
tones  kept  complaining  again  and  again,  and  drawing 
out  wailingh'  its  protracted  notes  ;  and  a  thousand  pre- 
dictions of  seers  of  other  days  come  back  on  her,  terri- 
fying her  with  their  awful  warnings.  When  she  dreams, 
there  is  ^neas  himself  driving  her  in  furious  chase  : 
she  seems  alwaj's  being  left  alone  to  herself,  always 
pacing  companionless  on  a  never-ending  road,  and  look- ' 
ing  for  her  T3'rians  in  a  realm  without  inhabitants  — 
like  Pentheus,  when  in  frenzy  he  sees  troops  of  Furies, 
and  two  s/^ns,  and  a  double  Thebes  rising  round  him  ; 
or  Agamemnon's  Orestes  rushing  over  the  stage,  as  he 
flies  from  his  mother,  who  is  armed  with  torches  and 
deadly  snakes,  while  the  avenging  fiends  sit  couched  on 
the  threshold. 

So  when,  spent  with  agony,  she  gave  conception  to 
the  demon,  and  resolved  on  death,  she  settled  with  her- 
self time  and  means,  and  thus  bespoke  her  grieving 
sister,  her  face  disguising  her  intent,  and  hope  smiling 
on  her  brow  :  —  '  Dearest,  I  have  found  a  way  ^  wish 
me  joy,  as  a  sister  should  —  to  bring  him  back  to  me, 
or  to  loose  me  from  the  love  which  binds  me  to  him. 
Hard  by  the  bound  of  ocean  and  the  setting  sun  lies 
the  extreme  Ethiopian  clime,  where  mighty  Atlas  turns 
round  on  his  shoulders  the  pole,  studded  with  burning 
stars.  From  that  chme,  I  have  heard  of  a  priestess  of 
the  Massylian  race,  once  guardian  of  the  temple  of  the 
Hesperides,  who  used  to  give  the  dragon  his  food,  and 
so  preserve  the  sacred  boughs  on  the  tree,  sprinkUng 
for  him  moist  honey  and  drowsy  poppy-seed.     She,  by 


BOOK  IV.  221 

her  spells,  undertakes  to  release  souls  at  her  pleasure, 
while  into  others  she  shoots  cruel  pangs ;  she  stops  the 
water  in  the  river-bed,  and  turns  back  the  stars  in  their 
courses,  and  calls  ghosts  from  realms  of  night.  You 
will  see  the  earth  bellowing  under  you,  and  the  ashes 
coming  down  from  the  mountain-top.  By  the  gods  I 
swear,  dearest  sister,  by  you  and  your  dear  life,  that 
unwillingly  I  gird  on  the  weapons  of  magic.  Do  you, 
in  the  privacy  of  the  inner  court,  build  a  pile  to  the 
open  sky  ;  lay  on  it  the  arms  which  that  godless  man 
left  hanging  in  the  chamber,  and  all  his  doffed  apparel, 
and  the  nuptial  bed  which  was  m}^  undoing.  To  de- 
stroy every  memorial  of  the  hateful  wretch  is  my  pleas- 
ure, and  the  priestess'  bidding.'  This  said,  she  is 
silent  — ■  paleness  overspreads  her  face.  Yet  Anna  does 
not  dream  that  these  strange  rites  are  a  veil  to  hide  her 
sister's  death :  she  cannot  grasp  frenzy  like  that ;  she 
fears  no  darker  day  than  that  of  their  mourning  for 
Sychseus,  and  so  she  does  her  bidding. 

But  the  queen,  when  the  pile  had  been  built  in  the 
heart  of  the  palace  to  the  open  sky,  a  giant  mass  of 
pine-wood  and  hewn  oak,  spans  the  place  with  gar- 
lands, and  crowns  it  with  funeral  boughs.  High  above 
it  on  the  couch  she  sets  the  doffed  apparel,  and  the 
sword  that  had  been  left,  and  the  image  of  the  false 
lover,  knowing  too  well  what  was  to  come.  Altars  rise 
here  and  there ;  the  priestess,  with  hair  disheveled, 
thunders  out  the  roll  of  three  hundred  gods,  Erebus 
and  Chaos,  and  Hecate  with  her  triple  form  —  the  three 
faces  borne  by  maiden  Dia'n.  See  !  she  has  sprinkled 
water,  brought,  so  she  feigns,  from  Avernus'  spring, 
and  she  is  getting  green  downy  herbs,  cropped  by 
moonlight  with  brazen  shears,  whose  sap  is  the  milk  of 
deadly  poison,  and  the  love-charm,  torn  from  the  brow 


222  THE  ^NEID. 

of  the  new-born  fofil,  ere  the  mother  could  snatch  it. 
Dido  herself,  with  salted  cake  and  pure  hands  at  the 
altars,  one  foot  unshod,  her  vest  ungirdled,  makes  her 
d3'ing  appeal  to  the  gods  and  to  the  stars  who  share 
Fate's  counsels,  begging  the  powers,  if  an}-  there  be, 
that  watch,  righteous  and  uuforgetting,  over  ill-3'oked 
lovers,  to  hear  her  pra3'er. 

It  was  night,  and  overtoiled  mortalit}'  throughout  the 
earth  was  enjoying  peaceful  slumber  ;  the  woods  were 
at  rest,  and  the  raging  waves  —  the  hour  when  the  stars 
are  rolling  midway  in  their  smooth  courses,  when  all 
the  land  is  hushed,  cattle,  and  ga3'-plumed  birds, 
haunters  far  and  wide  of  clear  waters  and  rough  forest- 
ground,  lapped  in  sleep  w4th  still3'  night  overhead, 
their  troubles  assuaged,  their  hearts  dead  to  care.  Not 
so  the  vexed  spirit  of  Phoenicia's  daughter ;  she  never 
relaxes  into, slumber,  or  welconies  the  night  to  e3'e  or 
bosom  ;  sorrow  doubles  peal  on  peal ;  once  more  love 
swells,  and  storms,  and  surges,  with  a  might3'  tempest 
of  passion.  Thus,  then,  she  plunges  into  speech,  and 
whirls  her  thoughts  about  thus  in  the  depths  of  her 
soul:  —  'What  am  I  about?  Am  I  to  make  fresh 
proof  of  m3'  former  suitors,  with  scorn  before  me? 
Must  I  stoop  to  court  Nomad  bridegrooms,  whose 
offered  hand  I  have  spurned  so  often?  Well,  then, 
shall  I  follow  the  fleet  of  Ilion,  and  be  at  the  beck  and 
call  of  Teucrian  masters  ?  Is  it  that  the3^  think  with 
pleasure  on  the  succor  once  rendered  them  ?  that  grati- 
tude for  past  kindness  3'et  lives  in  their  memor3'  ?  But 
ev^en  if  I  wished  it,  who  will  give  me  leave,  or  admit 
the  unwelcome  guest  to  his  haught3'  ships  ?  Are  3'ou 
so  ignorant,  poor  wretch  ?  Do  you  not  3'et  understand 
the  perjury  of  the  race  of  Laomedon?  What  then? 
Shall  I  fl3^  alone,  and  swell  the  triumph  of  their  crews  ? 


BOOK  IV,  223 

or  shall  I  put  to  sea,  with  the  Tyrians  and  the  whole 
force  of  my  people  at  my  back,  dragging  those  whom 
it  was  so  hard  to  uproot  from  their  Sidonian  home 
again  into  the  deep,  and  bidding  them  spread  sail  to 
the  winds  ?  No  !  —  die  the  death  yoxx.  have  merited, 
and  let  the  sword  put  your  sorrow  to  flight.  You, 
sister,  are  the  cause ;  overmastered  by  my  tears,  you 
heap  this  deadly  fuel  on  my  flame,  and  fling  me  upon 
my  enemy.  Why  could  I  not  forswear  wedlock,  and 
live  an  unblamed  life  in  savage  freedom,  nor  meddle 
with  troubles  Hke  these?  Why  did  I  not  keep  the 
faith  I  vowed  to  the  ashes  of  Sychseus  ?  *  Such  were 
the  reproaches  that  broke  from  that  bursting  heart. 

Meanwhile  ^neas,  resolved  on  his  journey,  was  slum- 
bering in  his  vessel's  tall  stern,  all  being  now  in  readi- 
ness. To  him  a  vision  of  the  god  appearing  again  with 
the  same  countenance,  presented  itself  as  he  slept,  and 
seemed  to  give  this  second  warning  —  the  perfect  pic- 
ture of  Mercur}',  his  voice,  his  blooming  hue,  his  3^el- 
low  locks,  and  the  3'buthful  grace  of  his  frame  :^ 
'  Goddess-born,  at  a  crisis  like  this  can  3'ou  slumber  on? 
Do  you  not  see  the  wall  of  danger  which  is  fast  rising 
round  you,  infatuate  that  you  are,  nor  hear  the  favor- 
ing whisper  of  the  western  gale  ?  She  is  revolving  in 
her  bosom  thoughts  of  craft  and  crueKy,  resolved  on 
death,  and  surging  with  a  changeful  tempest  of  passion. 
Will  you  not  haste  away  while  haste  is  in  j'oiir  power? 
You  will  look  on  a  sea  convulsed  with  ships,  an  array 
of  fierce  torch-fires,  a  coast  glowing  with  flame,  if  the 
dawn-goddess  shall  have  found  3'ou  loitering  here  on 
land.  Quick  !  —  burst  through  delay.  A  thing  of 
moods  and  changes  is  woman  ever.'  He  said,  and  was 
lost  in  the  darkness  of  night. 

At  once  ^neas,  scared  by  the  sudden  apparition,  . 


224  THE  ^NEID. 

springs  up  from  sleep,  and  rouses  his  comrades. 
'  Wake  in  a  moment,  my  friends,  and  seat  you  on  the 
benches.  Unfurl  the  sails  with  all  speed.  See  !  here  is 
a  god  sent  down  from  heaven  on  high,  urging  us  again 
to  hasten  our  flight,  and  cut  the  twisted  cables.  Yes  ! 
sacred  power,  we  follow  thee,  whoever  thou  art,  and  a 
second  time  with  joy  obey  thy  behest.  Be  thou  with 
us,  and  graciouslj-  aid  us,  and  let  propitious  stars  be 
ascendant  in  the  sk}^'  So  saying,  he  snatches  from  the 
scabbard  his  flashing  sword,  and  with  the  drawn  blade 
cuts  the  hawsers.  The  spark  flies  from  man  to  man ; 
they  scour,  the}^  scud,  they  have  left  the  shore  behind ; 
you  cannot  see  the  water  for  ships.  With  strong 
strokes  they  dash  the  foam,  and  sweep  the  blue. 

And  now  Aurora  was  beginning  to  sprinkle  the  earth 
with  fresh  light,  rising  from  Tithonus'  saffron  couch. 
Soon  as  the  queen  from  her  watch-tower  saw  the  gray 
dawn  brighten,  and  the  fleet  moving  on  with  even  can- 
vas, and  coast  and  haven  forsaken,  with  never  an  oar 
left,  thrice  and  again  smiting  her  beauteous  breast  with 
her  hands,  and  rending  her  golden  locks,  '•  Great  Jupi- 
ter!' cries  she,  'shall  he  go?  Shall  a  chance-comer 
boast  of  having  flouted  our  realm?  Will  the3^not  get 
their  arms  at  once,  and  give  chase  from  all  the  town, 
and  pull,  some  of  them,  the  ships  from  the  docks? 
Away  !  bring  fire  ;  quick  !  get  darts,  ply  oars  !  What 
am  I  saying  ?  Where  am  I  ?  What  madness  turns  my 
brain  ?  Wretched  Dido  !  do  your  sins  sting  3'ou  now  ? 
They  should  have  done  so  then,  when  you  were  giving 
your  crown  away.  What  truth  !  what  fealty  !  —  the 
man  who,  they  say,  carries  about  with  him  the  gods 
of  his  country,  and  took  up  on  his  shoulders  his  old 
worn-out  father !  Might  I  not  have  caught  and  torn 
him  piecemeal,  and  scattered  him  to  the  waves?  —  de- 


BOOK  IV.  -225 

stroyed  his  friends,  aye,  and  his  own  Ascanius,  and 
served  up  the  boy  for  his  father's  meal?  But  the 
chance  of  a  battle  would  have  been  doubtful.  Let  it 
have  been.  I  was  to  die,  and  whom  had  I  to  fear? 
I  would  have  flung  torches  into  his  camp,  filled  his 
decks  with  flame,  consumed  son  and  sire  and  the  whole 
line,  and  leapt  myself  upon  the  pile.  Sun,  whose  torch 
shows  thee  all  that  is  done  on  earth,  and  thou,  Juno, 
revealer  and  witness  of  these  stirrings  of  the  heart, 
and  Hecate,  whose  name  is  yelled  in  civic  crossways 
by  night,  avenging  fiends,  and  gods  of  dying  Elissa, 
listen  to  this !  Let  your  power  stoop  to  ills  that  call 
for  it,  and  hear  what  I- now  pray  !  If  it  must  needs  be 
that  the  accursed  wretch  gain  the  haven  and  float  to 
shore  —  if  such  the  requirement  of  Jove's  destiny, 
such  the  fixed  goal  —  3'et  grant  that,  harassed  by  the 
sword  and  battle  of  a  warlike  nation,  a  wanderer  from 
his  own  confines,  torn  from  his  lulus'  arms,  he  may  pray 
for  succor,  and  see  his  friends  d3'ing  miserably  round 
him  !  Nor  when  he  has  3  ielded  to  the  terms  of  an  un- 
just peace,  ma}"  he  enjoy  his  crown,  or  the  life  he 
loves  ;  but  ma^^  he  fall  before  his  time,  and  he  un- 
buried  in  the  midst  of  the  plain !  This  is  m^'  prayer 
— these  the  last  accents  that  flow  from  me  with  mj'  life- 
blood.  And  3'ou,  m3"  T3Tians,  let  3^our  hatred  perse- 
cute the  race  and  people  for  all  time  to  come.  Be  this 
the  oflTering  3'ou  send  down  to  m3'  ashes :  never  be 
there  love  or  league  between  nation  and  nation.  Arise 
from  m3'  bones,  m3^  unknown  avenger,  destined  with 
fire  and  sword  to  pursue  the  Dardanian  settlers,  now 
or  in  after  days,  whenever  strength  shall  be  given ! 
Let  coast  be  at  war  with  coast,  water  with  wave,  army 
with  army ;  fight  they,  and  their  sons,  and  their  sons* 


sons  I 


1  ♦ 


15 


226  THE  AlNEID. 

Thus  she  said,  as  she  whirled  her  thought  to  this  side 
and  that,  seeking  at  once  to  cut  short  the  life  she  now- 
abhorred.  Then  briefly  she  spoke  to  Barce,  Sychseus' 
nurse,  for  her  own  was  left  in  her  old  country,  in  the 
black  ashes  of  the  grave :  —  '  Fetclip  me  here,  dear 
nurse,  my  sister  Anna.  Bid  her  hasten  to  sprinkle 
herself  with  water  from  the  stream,  and  bring  with 
her  the  cattle  and  the  atoning  offerings  prescribed. 
Let  her  come  with  these  ;  and  do  you  cover  your  brow 
with  the  holy  fillet.  The  sacrifice  to  Stygian  Jove, 
which  I  have  duly  commenced  and  made  ready,  I  wish 
now  to  accomplish,  and  with  it  the  end  of  my  sorrows, 
giving  to  the  flame  the  pile  that  pillows  the  Dardan 
head ! '  She  said :  the  nurse  began  to  quicken  her 
pace  with  an  old  wife's  zeal. 

But  Dido,  wildered  and  maddened  by  her  enormous 
resolve,  rolling  her  bloodshot  eye,  her  quivering  cheeks 
stained  with  fiery  streaks,  and  pale  with  the  shadow  of 
death,  bursts  the  door  of  the  inner  palace,  and  fran- 
tically climbs  the  tall  pile,  and  unsheathes  the  Dardan 
sword,  a  gift  procured  for  a  far  diff*erent  end.  Then, 
after  surve^'ing  the  Trojan  garments  and  the  bed,  too 
well  known,  and  pausing  a  while  to  weep  and  think, 
she  pressed  her  bosom  to  the  couch,  and  uttered  her 
last  words : — 

'  Relics,  once  darlings  of  mine,  while  Fate  and 
Heaven  gave  leave,  receive  this  my  soul,  and  release 
me  from  these  my  sorrows.  I  have  lived  my  life  — 
the  course  assigned  me  by  Fortune  is  run,  and  now  the 
august  phantom  of  Dido  shall  pass  underground.  I 
have  built  a  splendid  city.  I  have  seen  my  walls  com- 
pleted. In  vengeance  for  a  husband,  I  have  punished 
a  brother  that  hated  me  —  blest,  ah !  blest  beyond 
human  bliss,  if  only  Dardan  ships  had  never  touched 


BOOK  IV,  227 

coasts  of  ours  ! '  She  spoke  —  and  kissing  the  couch : 
*  Is  it  to  be  death  without  revenge  ?  But  be  it  death/ 
she  cries  —  '  this,  this  is  the  road  by  which  I  love  to 
pass  to  the  shades.  Let  the  heartless  Dardanian's 
eyes  drink  in  this  flame  from  the  deep,  and  let  him 
carry  with  him  the  presage  of  my  death.' 

She  spoke,  and  even  while  she  was  3'et  speaking, 
her  attendants  see  her  fallen  on  the  sword,  the  blade 
spouting  blood,  and  her  hands  dabbled  in  it.  Their 
shrieks  rise  to  the  lofty  roof;  Fame  runs  wild  through 
the  convulsed  oMy.  With  wailing  and  groaning,  and 
screams  of  w^omen,  the  palace  rings ;  the  sky  resounds 
with  mighty  cries  and  beating  of  breasts  —  even  as  if 
the  foe  were  to  burst  the  gates  and  topple  down  Car- 
thage or  ancient  Tyre,  and  the  infuriate  flame  were 
leaping  from  roof  to  roof  among  the  dwellings  of  men 
and  gods. 

Her  sister  heard  it.  Breathless  and  frantic,  with 
wild  speed,  disfiguring  her  cheeks  with  her  nails,  her 
bosom  with  her  fists,  she  bursts  through  the  press,  and 
calls  by  name  on  the  d3ing  queen  :  —  '  Was  this  your 
secret,  sister?  Were  jou  plotting  to  cheat  me?  Was 
this  what  your  pile  was  preparing  for  me,  3'our  fires, 
and  your  altars  ?  What  should  a  lone  heart  grieve  for 
first  ?  Did  you  disdain  3^  our  sister's  company  in  death  ? 
You  should  have  called  me  to  share  your  fate  —  the 
same  keen  sword-pang,  the  same  hour,  should  have 
been  the  end  of  both.  And  did  these  hands  build  the 
pile,  this  voice  call  on  the  gods  of  our  house,  that  3'ou 
might  lie  there,  while  I,  hard-hearted  wretch,  was 
away?  Yes.  sister,  3'ou  have  destro3'ed  3'ourself  and 
me,  the  people  and  the  elders  of  Sidon,  and  your  own 
fair  city.  Let  in  the  water  to  the  wounds ;  let  me 
cleanse  them,  and  if  an3^  remains  of  breath  be  still 


228  THE  yENEID. 

flickering,  catch  them  in  my  mouth ! '  As  she  thus 
spoke,  she  was  at  the  top  of  the  lofty  steps,  and  was 
embracing  and  fondling  in  her  bosom  her  dying  sister, 
and  stanching  with  her  robe  the  black  streams  of  blood. 
Dido  strives  to  raise  her  hea\y  eyes,  and  sinks  down 
again,  the  deep  stab  gurgles  in  her  breast.  Thrice, 
with  an  effort,  she  lifted  and  reared  herself  up 'on  her 
elbow ;  thrice  she  fell  back  on  the  couch,  and  with 
helpless  wandering  eyes  aloft  in  the  sky,  sought  for  the 
light  and  groaned  when  she  found  it. 

Then  Juno  almighty,  in  compassion  for  her  length- 
ened agony  and  her  trouble  in  d3-ing,  sent  down  Iris 
from  Olympus  to  part  the  struggling  soul  and  its  prison 
of  flesh.  For,  as  she  was  dying,  not  in  the  course  of 
fate,  nor  for  any  crime  of  hers,  but  in  mere  miser3',  be- 
fore her  time,  the  victim  of  sudden  frenz}-,  not  3'et  had 
Proserpine  earned  off  a  lock  of  her  yellow  hair,  and 
thus  doomed  her  head  to  Stj^x  and  the  place  of  death. 
So  then  Iris  glides  down  the  skj^  with  saffron  wings 
dew-besprent,  trailing  a  thousand  various  colors  in  the 
face  of  the  sun,  and  alights  above  her  head.  ••  This  I 
am  bidden  to  bear  away  as  an  offering  to  Pluto,  and 
hereb}'  set  you  free  from  the  bod3\*  So  saying,  she 
stretches  her  hand  and  cuts  the  lock :  at  once  all  heat 
parts  from  the  frame,  and  the  life  has  passed  into  air. 


BOOK  V. 


BOOK  V. 

^NEAS,  meantime,  was  well  on  his  road,  holding  with 
set  purpose  on  the  watery  way,  and  cutting  through 
billows  gloomed  by  the  North  wind,  with  e3'es  ever  and 
anon  turned  back  to  the  cit}',  which  poor  Elissa's  fu- 
neral flame  now  began  to  illumine.  What  cause  has  lit 
up  a  blaze  so  mighty  thej^  cannot  tell ;  but  as  they  think 
of  the  cruel  pangs  which  follow  outrage  done  on  great 
love,  and  their  knowledge  what  a  frantic  woman  can 
do,  the  Teucrian  hearts  are  swept  through  a  train  of 
dismal  presage. 

Soon  as  the  ships  gained  the  mid-ocean,  and  no  land 
met  the  view  any  more  —  waters  everywhere  and  every- 
where skies  —  a  dark  rain-cloud  arose  and  stood  over 
the  hero's  head,  charged  with  night  and  winter  tempest, 
and  darkness  ruffled  the  billow's  crest.  Palinurus  him- 
self, the  pilot,  was  heard  from  the  loft}^  stern :  — '  Ah  ! 
whj'  has  such  an  army  of  storms  encompassed  the 
heaven  ?  What  hast  thou  for  us  now,  old  Father  Nep- 
tune?' No  sooner  said  than  he  bids  them  gather  up 
the  tackle  and  pl^'  the  lust}'  oar,  and  shifts  the  sheet  to 
the  wind,  and  speaks  thus:  —  'Noble  ^neas,  though 
Jove  himself  were  to  pledge  me  his  faith,  I  could  not 
hope  to  reach  Italy  with  a  skj^  like  this.  The  winds 
shift  and  storm  crosswise,  ever  rising  from  the  blacken- 
ing West,  and  the  mist  is  being  massed  into  clouds. 
We  cannot  make  head  against  them,  or  struggle  as  we 
should.  Well,  since  Fortune  exerts  her  tyranny,  let 
us  follow,  and  turn  our  faces  as  she  pulls  the  rein.  I 
take  it,  too,  we  are  not  far  from  the  friendl}^  brother- 


2Stf  THE  jENEID, 

coast  of  your  Eryx,  and  the  havens  of  Sicania,  if  my 
memory  serves  me  as  I  retrace  the  stars  I  watched  long 
ago.'  To  him  good  ^neas :  —  *I  have  seen  myself 
this  long  time  that  such  is  the  winds'  will,  anS  all  your 
counter-efforts  vain.  Turn  sail  and  ship.  Could  any 
land  indeed  be  welcomer,  an}-  that  I  would  sooner 
choose  to  harbor  my  weary  ships,  than  the  land 'which 
keeps  for  me  above  ground  the  Dardan  Acestes,  and 
laps  in  its  breast  the  bones  of  my  sire  Anchises  ? ' 
This  said,  they  make  for  the  haven ;  favoring  zephyrs 
swell  their  sail,  the  fleet  rides  swiftly  over  the  flood,  and 
at  last  the3-  touch  with  joy  the  strand  they  know  so 
w^ell. 

From  a  hill's  tall  top  Acestes  had  marked  with  won- 
der afar  off"  the  new  arrival,  and  the  friendly  vessels ; 
up  he  runs,  all  in  the  savage  trim  of  hunting-spear  and 
Libyan  bearskin  —  Acestes,  son  of  a  Trojan  mother  by 
the  river  Crimisus.  The  ancestral  blood  quickens  in 
his  veins  as  he  gives  them  joy  of  their  safe  arrival, 
welcomes  them  with  the  plent}'  of  rustic  royalty,  and 
soothes  their  weariness  with  every  kind  appliance. 

On  the  morrow,  when  the  first  dawn  of  the  bright 
dayspring  had  put  the  stars  to  flight,  -^neas  calls  his 
comrades  to  a  gathering  from  all  the  shore,  and  stand- 
ing on  a  heaped  mound  bespeaks  them  thus  :  —  '  Mighty 
sons  of  Dardanus,  race  of  Heaven's  high  parentage,  the 
months  are  all  past  and  the  year  has  fulfilled  its  cycle, 
since  we  gave  to  the  earth  the  earthly  relics,  the  ashes 
of  m}'  deilied  sire,  and  consecrated  the  altars  of  mourn- 
ing. And  now,  if  I  err  not,  the  very  day  is  here  — 
that  day  which  for  me  shall  ever  be  a  day  of  weeping, 
ever  a  da}'  of  honor,  since  you,  ye  gods,  have  willed  it 
80.  Though  this  da}'  were  to  find  me  among  the  Gsetu- 
lian  Syrtes,  a  homeless  wanderer  —  were  it  to  surprise 


BOOK  V,  231 

me  in  the  Argive  main  or  in  the  streets  of  Mjcense  — 
still  would  I  pay  my  yearly  vows  and  the  pomp  of 
solemn  'observance,  and  would  pile  the  altars  with  their 
proper  gifts.  And  now,  behold,  by  an  unsought  chance 
we  are  standing  —  not  in  truth  I  deem  without  the 
providence,  the  beckoning  hand  of  Heaven  —  at  the  very 
grave,  the  buried  ashes  of  my  sire,  driven  as  we  are 
into  this  friendly  haven.  Come,  then,  solemnize  we  all 
the  glad  celebration ;  pray  we  for  winds,  and  may  he 
be  pleased  that  I  should  offer  these  rites  yearly  in  a  city 
of  my  own  building,  in  a  temple  dedicated  to  himself. 
Two  head  of  oxen  Acestes,  like  a  true  son  of  Troy,  gives 
you  for  each  ship ;  call  to  the  feasts  the  gods  of  the 
hearth,  both  those  of  our  fathers  and  those  worshiped 
by  Acestes  our  host.  Furthermore,  if  the  ninth  day 
hence  the  dawn-goddess  restore  to  mortals  the  genial 
light,  and  make  the  world  visible  with  sunshine,  I  will 
set  up,  first  of  all,  for  all  Teucrian  comers,  a  match 
among  our  swift  fleet ;  then  let  him  that  is  light  of  foot, 
and  him  that,  glorying  in  his  strength,  bears  himself 
more  proudly  with  the  dart  and  the  flying  arrow,  or  has 
confidence  to  join  battle  in  gauntlets  of  raw  hide,  let 
one  and  all  be  here,  and  look  for  the  prizes  that  victory 
earns.  Give  me  your  auspicious  voices,  and  bind  your 
brows  with  green.' 

This  spoken,  he  shrouds  his  own  brows  with  his 
mother's  myrtle.  So  does  Helymus,  so  does  veteran 
Acestes,  so  young  Ascanius  —  so  the  whole  multitude 
of  warriors.  He  was  already  on  his  way  from  the 
council  to  the  tomb  with  many  thousands  round  him, 
the  center  of  a  great  company.  Here  in  due  libation 
he  pours  on  the  ground  two  bowls  of  the  wine-god's 
pure  juice,  two  of  new  milk,  two  of  sacrificial  blood  ;  he 
flings  bright  flowers,  and  makes  this  utterance  :  — '  Hail 


232  THE  jENEID. 

to  thee,  blessed  sire,  once  more !  hail  to  jou,  ashes  of 
one  rescued  in  vain,  sj^irit  and  shade  of  my  father !  It 
was  not  in  Fate  that  thou  shouldst  journey  with  me  to 
the  Italian  frontier  and  the  fields  of  Destiny,  or  see  the 
Ausonian  Tiber,  whatever  that  name  ma^'  import.'  He 
had  said  this,  when  from  the  depth  of  the  grave  a 
smooth  shining  serpent  trailed  along  seven  spires,  seven 
volumes  of  giant  length,  coiling  peacefull}-  round  the 
tomb  and  gliding  between  the  altars :  dark  green  flecks 
were  on  its  back;  its  scales  were  all  ablaze  with  spots 
of  golden  luster,  even  as  the  bow  in  the  clouds  showers 
a  thousand  various  colors  in  the  face  of  the  sun.  ^ne- 
as  stood  wonder-struck :  the  creature,  winding  its  long 
column  among  the  dishes  and  the  polished  goblets, 
tasted  of  the  viands,  and  then,  innocent  of  harm,  re- 
entered the  tomb  at  its  base,  leaving  the  altars  where 
its  mouth  had  been.  Quickened  by  this,  the  hero  re- 
sumes the  work  of  homage  to  his  sire,  not  knowing 
whether  to  think  this  the  genius  of  the  spot  or  his 
father's  menial  spirit :  duly  he  slays  two  3'oung  sheep, 
two  swine,  two  black-skinned  bullocks ;  again  and 
again  he  pours  goblets  of  wine,  again  and  again  he  calls 
on  the  soul  of  great  Anchises  and  the  shade  loosed 
from  Acheron's  prison.  His  comrades,  too,  each  ac- 
cording to  his  means,  give  glad  offerings  —  they  pile 
the  altars,  they  slay  the  bullocks  ;  others  in  their  func- 
tion set  on  the  caldrons,  and,  stretched  along  the  ^rass, 
hold  the  spits  over  the  embers  and  roast  the  flesh. 

And  now  the  expected  day  was  come :  the  steeds  of 
Phaethon  were  ushering  in  the  goddess  of  the  ninth  dawn 
through  a  heaven  of  clear  hght ;  the  rumored  spectacle 
and  the  great  name  of  Acestes  had  brought  the  neigh- 
boring people  from  their  homes  ;  the  holiday  crowd  was 
flooding  the  shore,  to  gaze  on  the  family  of  ^neas, 


BOOK   V,  233 

and  some  too  ready  to  dispute  the  prizes.  First,  in 
sight  of  all,  the  gifts  are  bestowed  in  the  midst  of  the 
ring  —  hallowed  tripods  and  verdant  chaplets,  and 
palms,  the  conquerors'  special  guerdon  —  armor  and 
raiment  of  purple  dye^a  talent's  weight  of  silver  and 
gold  ;  and  from  a  mound  in  the  center  the  shrill  trum- 
pet proclaims  the  sports  begun.  The  first  contest, 
waged  with  laboring  oars,  is  entered  by  four  ships,  the 
flower  of  the  entire  fleet.  There  is  Mnestheus,  with 
his  fiery  crew,  speeding  along  the  swift  Shark  —  Mnes- 
theus, hereafter  a  prince  of  Italy,  who  gives  his  name 
to  the  Memmian  line ;  there  is  Gyas  with  his  monster 
Chimaera,  that  monster  mass*  which  three  tiers  of 
stout  Dardans  are  pulling  on,  the  oars  rising  in  a  triple 
bank ;  Sergestus,  from  whom  the  Sergian  house  gains 
the  name  it  keeps,  sails  in  the  mighty  Centaur ;  and 
in  the  se;i-green  Scylla  Cloanthus,  your  great  fore- 
father, Cluentius  of  Rome. 

At  a  distance  in  the  sea  is  a  rock,  over  against  the 
spray- washed  shore  —  sometimes  covered  by  the  swell- 
ing waves  that  beat  on  it,  when  the  wintry  North  winds 
hide  the  stars  from  view  —  in  a  calm  it  rests  in  peace, 
and  rises  over  the  unruffled  waters,  a  broad  table-land, 
a  welcome  basking-ground  for  the  sea-bird.  Here 
^neas  set  up  a  green  stem  of  leafy  oak  with  his  own 
ro3'al  hand  —  a  sign  for  the  sailors,  that  the}'  might 
know  whence  to  begin  their  return,  and  where  to  double 
round  their  long  voyage.  Then  the}^  choose  their 
places  b}'  lot :  there  are  the  captains  on  the  sterns, 
a  glorious  sight,  gleaming  far  ^ith  gold  and  purple ; 
the  crews  are  crowned  with  thick  poplar  leaves,  and 
their  bare  shoulders  shine  with  the  oil  that  has  rubbed 
them.  They  seat  them  on  the  benches,  every  arm  is 
*  A  caret  in  the  MS.  notes  the  omission  of  Urhis  opus.  —  [Ed.] 


234  THE  ^NEID, 

strained  on  the  oar  —  straining  they  expect  the  signal, 
and  their  beating  hearts  are  drained  at  each  stroke  b}' 
panting  fear  and  high-strung  ambition.  Then,  when 
the  shrill  trumpet  has  uttered  its  voice,  all  in  a  moment 
dart  forward  from  their  bounds,  the  seaman's  shout 
pierces  the  sk}^ ;  the  upturned  seas  foam  as  the  arm  is 
drawn  back  to  the  chest.  With  measured  strokes  they 
plough  their  furrows  ;  the  water  is  one  yawning  chasm, 
rent  asunder  by  the  oar  and  the  pointed  beak.  Not 
such  the  headlong  speed  when  in  two-horse  race  the 
chariots  dash  into  the  plain  and  pour  along  from  their 
floodgates,  or  when  the  drivers  shake  the  streaming 
reins  over  their  flying  steeds,  and  hang  floating  over  the 
lash.  Then  plaudits,  and  shouts  of  manh^  voices,  and 
the  clamorous  fervor  of  the  backers,  make  the  whole 
woodland  ring  ;  the  pent-up  shores  keep  the  sound  roll- 
ing ;  the  hills  send  back  the  blows  of  the  noise.  See  ! 
flying  ahead  of  the  rest,  ghding  over  the  first  water 
in  the  midst  of  crowd  and  hubbub,  is  G3^as  ;  next  him 
comes  Cloanthus,  with  better  oars,  but  the  slow  pine- 
wood's  weight  keeps  him  bacli*  After  them  at  equal 
distance  the  Shark  and  the  Centaur  strive  to  win  prece- 
dence. And  now  the  Shark  has  it.  Now  she  is  beaten 
and  passed  by  the  Centaur.  Now  the  two  ride  abreast 
stem  to  stem,  cutting  with  their  long  keels  the  salt 
waves.  And  now  the}-  were  nearing  the  rock,  and  the 
goal  was  just  in  their  grasp,  when  Gyas,  the  leader, 
the  victor  of  the  half-way  passage,  calls  aloud  to  his 
ship's  pilot  Mencetes  ;  —  '  Whither  away  so  far  to  my 
right  ?  Steer  us  hithe'r ;  hug  the  shore ;  let  the  oar- 
blade  graze  the  cliffs  on  the  left;  leave  the  deep  to 
others.'  Thus  he;  but  Mencetes,  afraid  of  hidden 
rocks,  keeps  turning  the  prow  well  towards  the  sea. 
'  Whither  away  from  the  right  course  ?    Make  for  the 


BOOK  V,  235 

rocks,  Menoetes ! '  shouted  G3"as  again  ;  and  see  !  look- 
ing back,  he  perceives  Cloanthus  gaining  on  him  close 
behind.  Between  G3'as'  ship  and  the  sounding  rocks 
he  threads  his  way  to  the  left,  steering  inward,  and  in 
an  instant  passes  tlie  winner,  leaves  the  goal  behind, 
and  gains  the  smooth  open  sea.  Grief  turned  the 
youth's  very  marrow  to  flame,  nor  were  his  cheeks  free 
from  tears ;  he  seizes  the  slow  Menoetes,  forgetting  at 
once  his  own  decenc}^  and  his  crew's  safety,  and  flings 
him  headlong  from  the  lofty  stern  into  the  sea.  Him- 
self becomes  their  guide  at  the  helm,  himself  their  pilot, 
cheering  on  the  rowers,  and  turning  the  rudder  to  the 
shore.  But  Menoetes,  when  at  last  disgorged  from  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,  heavy  with  age,  and  wdth  his  drip- 
ping clothes  all  hanging  about  him,  climbs  the  cliff"- top, 
and  seats  himself  on  a  dry  rock.  The  Teucrians  laughed 
as  he  was  faUing,  laughed  as  he  was  swimming,  and 
now  they  laugh-  as  he  discharges  from  his  chest  the 
draught  of  brine.  Then  sprung  up  an  ecstatic  hope  in 
the  two  last,  Sergestus  and  Mnestheus,  of  passing  the 
lagging  Gyas.  Sergestus  gets  the  choice  of  water  and 
comes  nearer  the  rock  —  not  first,  however,  he  by  a 
whole  vessel's  length  —  half  his  ship  is  ahead,  half  is 
overlapped  by  the  beak  of  his  rival,  the  Shark.  Mnes- 
theus walks  through  the  ship  among  the  crew  and 
cheers  them  on.  '  Now,  rise  to  3'our  oars,  old  Hector's 
men,  whom  I  chose  to  follow  me  at  Troy's  last  gasp  ; 
now  put  out  the  strength,  the  spirit  I  saw  you  exert  in 
the  Ggetulian  Syrtes,  the  Ionian  Sea,  the  entanghng 
waves  of  Malea.  It  is  not  the  first  place  I  look  for.  I 
am  not  the  man  ;  this  is  no  struggle  for  victory  —  yet 
might  it  be!  —  but  conquest  is  for  them,  Neptune,  to 
whom  thou  givest  it.  Let  our  shame  be  to  come  in 
last ;  be  this  your  victory,  friends,  to  keep  ofl"  disgrace.* 


236  THE  JSNEID. 

Straining  every  nerve,  they  throw  themselves  forward ; 
their  mighty  strokes  make  the  brazen  keel  quiver,  the 
ground  flies  from  under  them ;  thick  panting  shakes 
their  limbs,  their  parched  throats ;  sweat  flows  down 
in  streams. 

A  mere  chance  gave  them  the  wished  pre-eminence ; 
for  while  Sergestus,  blind  with  passion,  feeeps  driving 
his  prow  towards  the  rock  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
pressing  through  the  narrow  passage,  his  ill  star  en- 
tangled him  with  a  projecting  crag.  The  cliffs  were 
jarred,  the  oars  cracked  as  the}'  met  the  sharp  flint,  and 
the  prow  hung  where  it  had  lodged.  Up  spring  the 
sailors  with  loud  shout,  while  the  ship  stands  still. 
They  bring  out  their  iron-shod  poles  and  pointed  boat- 
hooks,  and  pick  up  the  broken  oars  in  the  water.  But 
Mnestheus,  rejoicing,  and  keener  for  success,  with 
quick-plashing  oars,  and  the  winds  at  his  call,  makes 
for  the  seas  that  shelve  to  the  coast  and  speeds  along 
the  clear  expanse.  Like  as  a  dove,  suddenly  startled 
in  a  cave,  where  in  the  hollow  of  the  rock  are  her  home 
and  her  loved  nestlings,  issues  out  to  fly  over  the  plain, 
clapping  loud  her  pinions  in  terror  in  the  cell — then, 
gliding  smooth  through  the  tranquil  air,  she  winnows 
her  liquid  way  without  a  motion  of  her  rapid  wings  — 
so  with  Mnestheus,  so  the  Shark,  flying  of  herself,  cuts 
through  the  last  water  of  the  course,  so  the  mere  im- 
pulse bears  her  speeding  on.  First  he  takes  leave  of 
Sergestus,  struggling  with  the  tall  rock  and  the  shallow 
water,  and  in  vain  calling  for  help,  and  learning  to  run 
along  with  broken  oars.  Then  he  comes  up  with  Gyas 
and  the  great  monster  Chimsera  itself;  she  3'ields,  be- 
cause deprived  of  her  pilot.  And  now  there  remains 
Cloanthus  alone,  just  at  the  very  end  of  the  race ;  him 
he  makes  for,  and  presses  on  him  with  all  the  force  of 


BOOK   V.  237 

effort.  Then,  indeed,  the  shouting  redoubles  —  all 
lend  their  goodwill  to  spur  on  the  second  man,  and  the 
skj^  echoes  with  the  din.  These  think  it  shante  to  lose 
the  glory  that  they  have  won,  the  prize  that  is  already 
their  own,  and  would  fain  barter  life  for  renown  ;  these 
are  feeding  on  success,  they  feel  strong  because  they 
feel  that  they  are  thought  stit)ng.  And  perhaps  their 
beaks  would  have  been  even  and  the  prize  divided,  had 
not  Cloanthus,  stretching  out  both  hands  over  the  deep, 
breathed  a  prayer  and  called  the  gods  to  hear  his  vow : 
— '  Powers  whose  is  the  rule  of  ocean,  whose  waters  I 
ride,  for  you  with  glad  heart  will  I  lead  to  your  altars 
on  this  shore  a  snow-white  bull,  as  a  debtor  should ;  I 
will  throw  the  entrails  afar  into  the  salt  waves,  and 
pour  out  a  clear  stream  of  wine.'  He  said,  and  deep 
down  among  the  billows  there  heard  him  all  the  Nereids 
and  Phorcus'  train,  and  maiden  Panopea,  and  father 
Portunus  himself,  with  his  own  great  hand,  pushed  the 
ship  as  she  moved ;  fleeter  than  southwind  or  winged 
arrow  he  flies  to  the  land  and  is  lodged  already  deep  in 
the  haven. 

Then  Anchises'  son,  duly  summoning  the  whole  com- 
pany, proclaims  by  a  loud-voiced  herald  Cloanthus  con- 
queror, and  drapes  his  brow  with  green  bay ;  he  gives 
each  crew  a  gift  at  its  choice,  three  bullocks,  and  wine, 
and  the  present  of  a  great  talent  of  silver.  To  the 
captains  themselves  he  further  gives  especial  honors, 
to  the  conqueror  a  gold-broidered  scarf,  round  which 
runs  a  length  of  Meliboean  purple  with  a  double  Msean- 
der ;  enwoven  therein  is  the  royal  boy  on  leafy  Ida, 
plying  the  swift  stag  with  the  javelin  and  the  chase, 
keen  of  ej^e,  his  chest  seeming  to  heave ;  then,  swoop- 
ing down  from  Ida,  the  bearer  of  Jove's  armor  has 
snatched  him  up  aloft  in  his  crooked  talons,  while  his 


238  THE  jENEID. 

aged  guardians  are  stretching  in  vain  their  hands  to 
heaven,  and  the  barking  of  the  hounds  streams  furious 
to  the  sky.  But  for  him  whose  prowess  gained  him  the 
second  place  there  is  a  cuirass  of  hnked  chain-mail, 
three-threaded  with  gold,  which  the  hero  himself  had 
stripped  with  a  conqueror's  hand  from  Demoleos  on 
swift  Simois'  bank  under  the  shadow  of  Troy ;  this 
he  gives  the  warrior  for  his  own,  a  glory  and  a  defense 
in  the  battle.  Scarce  could  the  two  servants,  Phegeus 
and  Sagaris,  support  its  man}^  folds,  pushing  shoulder 
to  shoulder ;  j^et  Demoleos,  in  his  daj-,  with  it  on  his 
breast,  used  to  drive  the  Trojans  in  flight  before  him. 
The  third  present  he  makes  a  pair  of  brazen  caldrons, 
and  two  cups  of  wrought  silver,  rough  with  fretwork. 

And  now  all  had  received  their  presents,  and  each, 
glorying  in  his  treasure,  was  walking  along  with  purple 
festooning  round  his  brows,  when  Sergestus,  at  last 
with  great  pain  dislodged  from  the  cruel  rock,  his  oars 
lost  and  one  whole  side  crippled,  was  seen  propelling 
among  jeers  his  inglorious  vessel.  Like  as  a  serpent 
surprised  on  the  highway,  whom  a  brazen  wheel  has 
driven  across,  or  a  traveler,  heavy  of  hand,  has  left 
half  dead  and  mangled  by  a  stone,  writhes  its  long 
body  in  ineffectual  flight,  its  upper  part  all  fury,  its 
eyes  blazing,  its  hissing  throat  reared  aloft,  the  lower 
part,  disabled  by  \h^  wound,  clogs  it  as  it  wreathes  its 
spires  and  doubles  upon  its  own  joints.  Such  was  the 
oarage  with  which  the  ship  pushed  herself  slowly  along : 
she  makes  sail,  however,  and  enters  the  haven  with 
canvas  flying.  To  Sergestus  ^neas  gives  the  present 
he  had  promised,  delighted  to  see  the  ship  rescued  and 
the  crew  brought  back.  His  prize  is  a  slave,  not  un- 
versed in  Pallas'  labors,  Pholoe,  Cretan  born,  with  twin 
sons  at  her  breast. 


BOOK   V,  239 

This  match  dismissed,  good  JEneas  takes  his  way  to 
a  grassy  plain,  surrounded  on  all  sides  with  woods  and 
sloping  hills  :  in  the  middle  of  the  valley  was  a  circle, 
as  of  a  theater ;  thither  it  was  that  the  hero  repaired 
with  many  thousands,  the  center  of  a  vast  assembl}^ 
and  sat  on  a  raised  throne.  Then  he  invites  with  hope 
of  reward,  the  bold  spirits  who  may  wish  to  contend  in 
the  swift  foot-race,  and  sets  up  the  prizes.  Candidates 
flock  from  all  sides,  Teucrian  and  Sicanian  mixed. 
Nisus  and  Euryalus  the  foremost.  Eurj^alus  conspic- 
uous for  beauty  and  blooming  youth,  Nisus  for  the  pure 
love  he  bore  the  boy ;  following  them  came  Diores,  a 
ro3'al  scion  of  Priam's  illustrious  stock ;  then  S alius 
and  Patron  together,  one  from  Acarnania,  the  other 
from  Tegea,  an  Arcadian  by  blood ;  next  two  Trina- 
crian  youths,  Hetymus  and  Panopes,  trained  foresters, 
comrades  of  their  elder  friend,  Acestes,  and  many 
others,  whom  dim  tradition  leaves  in  darkness.  As 
the}"  crowd  round  him,  ^neas  bespeaks  them  thus  :  — 
'  Hear  what  I  have  to  say,  and  give  the  heed  of  a  glad 
heart.  No  one  of  this  company  shall  go  awa}'  unguer- 
doned  by  me.  I  will  give  a  pair  of  Gnossian  darts, 
shining  with  polished  steel,  and  an  ax  chased  with 
silver  for  the  hand  to  wield.  This  honor  all  shall  ob- 
tain alike.  The  three  first  shall  receive  prizes,  and 
shall  wear  also  wreaths  of  j^ellow-green  olive.  Let 
the  first,  as  conqueror,  have  a  horse,  full  decorated 
with  trappings  ;  the  second  an  Amazonian  quiver,  full 
of  Thracian  shafts,  with  a  belt  of  broad  gold  to  en- 
compass it,  and  a  buckle  of  a  polished  jewel  to  fasten 
it;  let  the  third  go  away  content  with  this  Argive  hel- 
met.' This  said,  they  take  their  places,  and  suddenly, 
on  hearing  the  signal,  dash  into  the  course,  and  leave 
the  barrier  behind,  pouring  on  like  a  burst  of  rain, 


240  THE  ^NEID. 

their  eyes  fixed  on  the  goal.  First  of  all,  away  goes 
Nisus,  his  limbs  fl3'ing  far  before  all  the  rest,  swifter 
than  wind  and  winged  thunderbolt ;  next  to  him,  but 
next  at  a  long  distance,  follows  Salius  ;  then,  at  a 
shorter  space,  Euryalus  third.  After  Eur3'alus  comes 
Hel3*mus ;  close  on  him,  see !  flies  Diores,  heel  touch- 
ing heel  and  shoulder  shoulder :  were  the  course  but 
longer,  he  would  be  shooting  on  and  darting  beyond 
him,  and  turning  a  doubtful  race  to  a  victory. 

Now  they  were  just  at  the  end  of  the  course,  all 
panting  as  the}^  reached  the  goal,  when  Nisus,  the  ill- 
starred,  shdes  in  a  puddle  of  blood,  which  lay  there 
just  as  it  had  been  spilt  after  a  sacrifice  of  bullocks, 
soaking  the  ground  and  the  growing  grass.  Poor 
youth !  just  in  the  moment  of  triumph,  he  could  not 
keep  his  sliddery  footing  on  the  soil  he  trod,  but  fell 
flat  in  the  very  middle  of  unclean  ordure  and  sacrificial 
gore.  But  he  forgot  not  Euryalus  —  forgot  not  his 
love  —  no  !  he  threw  himself  in  Salius'  way,  rising  in 
that  slippery  place  —  and  Salius  lay  there  too,  flung  on 
the  puddled  floor.  Forth  darts  Euryalus,  and  gains 
the  first  place,  a  winner,  thanks  to  his  friend,  cheered 
in  his  flight  by  plaudit  and  shouting.  ^  Next  comes  in 
Helymus  and  Diores,  thus  made  the  third  prize.  But 
now  Salius  is  heard,  deafening  with  his  clamor  the 
whole  company  in  the  ring  and  the  seniors  in  the  first 
rank,  and  insisting  that  the  prize,  which  he  had  lost 
by  a  trick,  be  restored  him.  Euryalus  is  supported  by 
the  popular  voice,  by  the  tears  he  sheds  so  gracefully, 
and  the  greater  loveliness  of  worth  when  seen  in  a 
beauteous  form.  Diores  backs  his  claim  with  loud  ap- 
pealing shouts ;  he  had  just  won  the  prize,  and  his  at- 
tainment of  the  third  place  was  all  for  nothing  if  the 
first  reward  were  to  be  given   to   Salius.     To  whom 


BOOK   V.  241 

father  JEneas  :  — '  Your  rewards,  boys,  remain  fixed 
as  the}'  ever  were  ;  no  one  disturbs  the  palm  once  ar- 
ranged :  suffer  me  to  show  pit}-  to  a  friend's  undeserved 
misfortune.'  So  saying,  he  gives  Salius  the  enormous 
hide  of  a  Gsetulian  lion,  loaded  with  shaggy  hair  and 
talons  of  gold.  On  which  Nisus :  —  'If  the  van- 
quished are  rewarded  so  largely  —  if  you  can  feel  for 
tumblers  —  what  prize  will  be  great  enough  for  Nisus' 
claims  ?  My  prowess  had  earned  me  the  first  chaplet, 
had  not  unkind  Fortune  played  me  foul,  as  she  pla3'ed 
Salius  ; '  and  with  these  words  he  displayed  his  features 
and  his  limbs,  all  dishonored  by  slime  and  ordure.  The 
gracious  prince  smiled  at  him,  and  bade  them  bring  out 
a  shield  of  Didymaon*s  workmanship,  once  wrested 
by  the  Danaans  from  Neptune's  hallowed  gate,  and 
with  this  signal  present  he  endows  the  illustrious  youth. 
Next,  when  the  race  was  finished,  and  the  prizes 
duly  given  :  —  '  Now,  whoever  has  courage,  and  a  vig- 
orous collected  mind  in  his  breast,  let  him  come  for- 
ward, bind  on  the  gloves,  and  lift  his  arms.'  Thus 
speaks  ^neas,  and  sets  forth  two  prizes  for  the  con- 
test :  for  the  conqueror,  a  bullock  with  gilded  horns 
and  fillet  festoons ;  a  sword  and  a  splendid  helmet,  as 
a  consolation  to  the  vanquished.  In  a  moment,  with 
all  the  thews  of  a  giant,  rises  Dares,  uprearing  himself 
amid  a  loud  hum  of  applause  —  the  sole  champion  who 
used  to  enter  the  lists  with  Paris :  once  at  the  tomb 
where  mighty  Hector  lies  buried,  he  encountered  the 
great  conqueror  Butes,  who  carried  his  enormous  bulk 
to  the  field  with  all  the  pride  of  Amycus'  Bebrycian 
blood  —  struck  him  down,  and  stretched  him  in  death 
on  the  yellow  sand.  Such  are  Dares'  powers,  as  he 
lifts  high  his  crest  for  the  battle,  displays  his  broad 
shoulders,  throws  out  his  arms  alternately,  and  strikes 
16 


242  THE  uENEID. 

the  air  with  his  blows.  How  to  find  his  match  is  the 
cry  ;  no  one  of  all  that  company  dares  to  confront  such 
a  champion,  and  draw  on  the  gauntlets.  So  with  con- 
fident action,  thinking  that  all  were  retiring  from  the 
prize,  he  stands  before  ^neas,  and  without  further  pre- 
lude grasps  with  his  left  hand  the  bull  by  the  horn,  and 
bespeaks  him  thus  :  —  '  Goddess-born,  if  no  one  dares 
to  take  the  risk  of  the  fight,  how  long  are  we  to  stand 
still?  How  long  is  it  seemly  to  keep  me  waiting? 
Give  the  word  for  me  to  carry  off  the  prize.*  A  simul- 
taneous shout  broke  from  the  sons  of  Dardanus,  all 
voting  that  their  champion  should  have  the  promised 
gift  made  good. 

On  this  Acestes,  with  grave  severity  of  speech,  re- 
bukes Entellus,  just  as  he  chanced  to  be  seated  next 
him  on  the  verdant  grassy  couch.  '  Entellus,  once 
known  as  the  bravest  of  heroes,  and  all  for  naught, 
will  you  brook  so  calmly  that  a  prize  so  great  be  car- 
ried off  without  a  blow?  Where  are  we  now  to  look 
for  that  mighty  deity  your  master,  Er^'x,  vaunted  so 
often  and  so  idly  ?  Where  is  that  glory  which  spread  all 
Trinacria  through,  and  those  spoils  that  hang  from  3'our 
roof? '  He  replied  :  '  It  is  not  the  love  of  praise,  not 
ambition,  that  has  died  out,  extinguished  by  fear.  No, 
indeed  ;  but  my  blood  is  dulled  and  chilled  by  the  frost 
of  age,  and  the  strength  in  m}'-  limbs  withered  and  ice- 
bound. Had  I  now  what  I  once  had,  what  is  now  the 
glory  and  the  boast  of  that  loud  braggart  there  ;  had  I 
but  the  treasure  of  youth,  I  should  not  have  needed  the 
reward  and  the  goodly  bullock  to  bring  me  into  the 
field  ;  nor  are  gifts  what  I  care  for.'  So  saying,  he 
flung  into  the  midst  a  pair  of  gauntlets  of  enormous 
weight,  with  which  the  fiery  Eryx  was  wont  to  deal  his 
blows  in  combat,  stringing  his  arms  with  the  tough 


BOOK   V.  243 

hide.  Every  heart  was  amazed,  so  vast  were  the  seven 
huge  bnll-hides,  hardened  with  patches  of  lead  and 
iron.  More  than  all  the  rest  Dares  is  astonished,  and 
recoils  many  paces ;  and  the  hero  himself,  Anchises' 
son,  stands  turning  in  his  hands  the  massive  weight 
and  the  enormous  wrappers  of  twisted  thong.  Then 
the  old  man  fetched  from  his  heart  words  like  these  :  — 
'  What  if  any  one  here  had  seen  those  mightier  weapons, 
Hercules*  own  gauntlets,  and  the  fatal  combat  on  this 
very  strand?  These  are  the  arms  that  Eryx,  your 
brother,  once  wielded ;  you  see  on  them  still  the  stains 
of  blood  and  sprinkled  brains.  With  these  he  stood 
up  against  the  great  Alcides.  These  I  was  trained  to 
use  while  fresher  blood  inspired  me  with  strength,  and 
the  snows  of  age,  my  jealous  rival,  were  not  yet 
sprinkled  on  my  brows.  But  if  Dares  the  Trojan  re- 
fuses our  Sicilian  weapons,  and  that  is  good  -Eneas' 
fixed  wish,  approved  by  Acestes,  m}'  backer  in  the 
fight,  make  we  the  contest  even.  I  spare  you  the  bull- 
hides  of  Eryx  —  never  fear  —  and  do  you  put  off  your 
Trojan  gauntlets.*  So  saying,  he  flung  off  from  his 
shoulders  his  double  garment,  and  displays  the  giant 
joints  of  his  limbs,  the  giant  bone- work  of  his  arms, 
and  stands,  a  mighty  frame,  in  the  midst  of  the  sand. 

Then  Anchises*  son  brought  out  with  his  royal  hand 
two  pairs  of  equal  gauntlets,  and  bound  round  the  fists 
of  the  twain  weapons  of  even  force.  At  once  each 
rose  on  tiptoe,  and  raised  his  arms  undaunted  to  the 
air  of  heaven.  They  draw  back  their  towering  heads 
out  of  the  reach  of  blows,  and  make  their  fists  meet  in 
the  melee,  and  provoke  the  battle.  The  one  is  better 
in  quick  movement  of  the  foot,  and  youth  lends  him 
confidence;  the  other's  strength  is  in  brawny  limbs 
and  giant  bulk,  but  his  knees  are  heavy  and  unstable. 


244  THE  ^NEID. 

and  a  troubled  panting  shakes  that  vast  frame.  Many 
the  blows  that  the  champions  hail  on  each  other  in 
vain ;  many  are  showered  on  the  hollow  side,  and  draw 
loud  echoes  from  the  chest.  The  fist  keeps  playing 
round  ear  and  temple  ;  the  teeth  chatter  under  the  cruel 
blow.  Heavily  stands  Entellus,  unmoved,  in  the  same 
strained  posture ;  his  bending  body  and  watchful  eye 
alone  withdraw  him  from  the  volley.  His  rival,  like  a 
general  who  throws  up  mounds  round  a  high-walled 
town,  or  sits  down  with  his  army  before  a  mountain 
fort,  tries  now  this  approach,  now  that,  reconnoiters 
the  whole  stronghold,  and  plies  him  with  manifold 
assaults,  baffled  in  each.  Rising  to  the  stroke,  En- 
tellus put  forth  his  right  hand,  and  raised  it  aloft ;  the 
other's  quick  eye  foresaw  the  downcoming  blow,  and 
his  lithe  frame  darts  beyond  its  range.  Entellus  has 
flung  his  whole  force  on  air ;  at  once,  untouched  by 
his  foe,  the  heavy  giant,  with  heavy  giant  weight,  falls 
to  earth,  even  as  one  day  falls  hollow-hearted  with 
hollow  crash  on  Erymanthus  or  loft}*  Ida,  uptorn  by 
the  roots,  a  mighty  pine.  Eagerly  start  up  at  once 
the  Teucrian  and  Trinacrian  chivalry ;  up  soars  a  shout 
to  heaven  ;  and  first  runs  up  Acestes,  and  soothingly- 
raises  from  the  ground  his  friend,  aged  as  he.  But 
not  slackened  by  his  overthrow,  nor  daunted,  the  hero 
comes  back  fiercer  to  the  field,  with  anger  goading 
force;  that  mass  of  strength  is  enkindled  at  last  by 
shame  and  conscious  prowess.  All  on  fire,  he  drives 
Dares  headlong  over  the  whole  plain,  now  with  his 
right  hand  showering  blows,  now  with  his  giant  left. 
No  stint,  no  stay;  thick  as  the  hail  with  which  the 
storm-clouds  rattle  on  the  roof,  so  thick  the  blows  with 
which  the  hero,  crowding  on  with  both  hands,  is  batter- 
ing and  whirhng  Dares.     Then  father  ^neas  thought 


BOOK   V.  245 

fit  to  stem  the  tide  of  fury,  nor  suffered  Entellus' 
wounded  spirit  to  glut  its  rage  further,  but  put  an  end 
to  the  fra}^  and  rescued  the  gasping  Dares  with  sooth- 
ing words,  and  bespeaks  him  thus :  — '  My  poor 
friend !  what  monstrous  madness  has  seized  you  ?  See 
you  not  that  strength  has  passed  over  —  that  the  gods 
have  changed  their  sides?  Give  way  to  Heaven.' 
He  said,  and  his  word  closed  the  fight.  But  Dares 
is  in  the  hands  of  his  faithful  comrades,  dragging  after 
him  his  feeble  knees,  dropping  his  head  on  this  side 
and  on  that,  discharging  from  his  mouth  clotted  gore, 
teeth  and  blood  together.  Thus  they  lead  him  to  the 
ships  ;  summoned,  they  receive  for  him  the  helmet  and 
the  sword  ;  the  palm  and  the  bull  they  leave  to  Entel- 
lus. Hereon  the  conqueror,  towering  in  pride  of  soul, 
and  exulting  in  his  prize,  the  bull :  '  Goddess-born,' 
cries  he,  '  and  you,  Teucrians,  take  measure  at  once 
of  the  strength  which  dwelt  in  my  frame,  while  that 
frame  was  young,  and  the  death  from  whose  door  you 
have  called  back,  and  are  still  keeping,  your  Dares.* 
So  sa3'ing,  he  took  his  stand  full  before  the  face  of  the 
bullock,  which  was  there  as  the  prize  of  the  fray,  and 
with  arm  drawn  back,  swung  the  iron  gauntlet  right 
between  the  horns,  rising  to  his  full  height,  crashed 
down  on  the  bone,  and  shattered  the  brain.  Pros- 
trated, breathless,  and  quivering,  on  earth  lies  the 
bull.  He  from  his  bosom's  depth  speaks  thus  over 
the  dead  :  —  '  This  Hfe,  Eryx,  I  render  to  thee  —  a 
better  substitute  for  Dares'  death;  here,  as  a  con- 
queror ma}',  I  resign  the  gauntlets  and  the  game.' 

Next  ^neas  invites  those  who  may  care  to  vie  in 
shooting  the  fleet  arrow,  and  sets  forth  the  prizes. 
With  his  own  giant  hand  he  rears  upright  the  mast 
from  Serestus'  ship,  and  from  its  lofty  summit  ties  a 


246  THE  yENEID. 

fluttering  dove  with  a  cord  passed  round  the  mast  —  a 
mark  for  aiming  the  steel.  The  archers  are  met ;  the 
lot  has  been  thrown  and  received  by  the  brazen  helmet. 
See !  first,  among  the  shouts  of  his  friends,  comes  out 
before  all  the  place  of  Hyrtacus'  son,  Hippocoon,  who 
is  followed  by  Mnestheus,  late  conqueror  in  the  ship- 
race — Mnestheus,  crowned  with  the  green  ohve-wreath. 
Third  comes  Eurjtion,  thy  brother,  thrice  glorious 
Pandarus,  who  in  elder  days,  bidden  to  destroy  the 
truce,  was  the  first  to  wing  thy  weapon  into  the 
Achaean  ranks.  Last  is  Acestes,  sunk  at  the  bottom 
of  the  helm,  the  old  man's  spirit  nerving  his  arm  to 
essay  the  task  of  the  young.  And  now,  with  stern 
strength,  the}^  bend  and  arch  their  bows,  each  hero 
his  own,  and  draw  forth  the  shaft  from  the  quiver. 
First  through  heaven  from  the  twanging  string  the 
arrow  of  Hyrtacus'  youthful  son  pierces  sharp  and 
shrill  the  flying  air:  it  hits  —  it  is  lodged  full  in  the 
n',^0^  mast-tree.^  After  him  stood  keen  Mnestheus,  his  bow- 
string drawn  to  his  breast,  his  bow  pointing  upwards, 
.  ej^e  and  shaft  leveled  at  once.  But  the  bird  itself, 
hapless  man  !  his  arrow  had  not  power  to  touch  that  ; 
it  cut  the  knot  and  the  hempen  fastening  by  which  she 
hung,  tied  by  the  foot,  from  the  mast's  top.  Away 
she  flew,  all  among  the  south  winds  and  their  murky 
clouds.  Then,  quick  as  thought,  his  bow  long  since 
ready,  and  his  shaft  poised  on  the  string,  Eurytion 
breathed  a  vow  to  his  brother,  fixing  his  eye  on  her 
in  the  moment  of  her  triumph  high  up  in  the  open 
sky,  and  as  she  claps  her  wings,  pierces  the  dark 
cloudy  covert,  and  strikes  the  dove.  Down  she  drops 
unnerved,  leaving  her  life  among  the  stars  of  ether, 
and  as  she  tumbles  to  earth,  brings  back  the  arrow  in 
her  breast.     Acestes  remained  alone,  a  champion  with 


BOOK   V,  247 

no  prize  to  gain ;  3*et  he  shot  his  weapon  into  the  air 
aloft,  displaying  at  once  his  veteran  skill  and  the  force 
of  his  twanging  bow.  And  now  their  eyes  are  met 
by  a  sudden  portent,  drawing  a  mighty  augur}'  in  its 
train.  In  after  days  the  vast  issue  told  the  tale,  and 
terror-striking  seers  shrieked  their  omens  too  late. 
For  as  it  flew  in  the  clouds  of  heaven,  the  reed  took 
fire,  and  marked  its  way  with  a  trail  of  flame,  and 
wasted  and  vanished  wholly  into  unsubstantial  air'; 
even  as  stars  unfastened  from  the  firmament  oft 
sweep  across  and  drag  their  blazing  hair  as  they  fly. 
Fixed  aghast  to  the  spot,  in  prayer  to  Heaven,  hung 
the  stout  sons  of  Trinacria  and  Troy  ;  nor  does  JEneas* 
sovran  judgment  reject  the  omen.  He  clasps  the  glad 
Acestes  to  his  heart,  loads  him  with  costly  gifts,  and 
bespeaks  him  thus  :  —  '  Take  them,  my  father  ;  for 
Olympus*  might}^  monarch  has  said  by  the  voice  of 
these  omens  that  3'ours  is  to  be  a  prize  drawn  without 
a  lot.  From  Anchises  the  aged  himself  comes  the 
present  I  now  bestow  —  a  bowl  embossed  with  figures, 
which  in  old  da3's  Cisseus  gave  to  my  sire  Anchises  in 
ro^'al  bount}',  a  standing  remembrance  of  himself  and 
a  testimony  of  his  love.'  So  saj-ing,  he  crowns  his 
brow  with  verdant  bays,  and  proclaims,  first  of  all,  the 
conquering  name  of  Acestes.  Nor  did  good  Eurytion 
grudge  the  pre-eminence,  though  he  and  none  but  he 
brought  down  the  bird  from  the  sky.  Next  steps  into 
the  prize  he  who  cut  the  cord ;  last,  he  whose  quiver- 
ing arrow  nailed  the  mast. 

But  father  ^neas,  ere  the  match  was  over,  calls  to 
his  side  the  guardian  and  companion  of  lulus*  tender 
years,  Epytides,  and  thus  speaks  into  his  ear  in  secret : 
—  '  Go  now  and  tell  Ascanius,'  if  his  company  of  boys 
is  ready,  and  the  movements  of  his  young  cavalry  duly 


248  THE  ^NEID. 

marshaled,  to  bring  them  into  the  field  in  his  grand- 
sire's  honor,  and  show  himself  in  arms.'  He,  by  his 
own  voice,  bids  the  whole  surging  crowd  retire  from 
the  length  of  the  circus,  and  leave  the  field  clear.  The 
boys  come  prancing  in  on  well-reined  steeds,  in  even 
lines  of  light  brightening  their  parents'  eyes ;  and  as 
they  pass,  an  admiring  shout  breaks  from  the  gathered 
chivalry  of  Sicily  and  Troy.  All  alike  have  their 
flowing  hair,  duly  cinctured  with  stripped  leaves ; 
each  bears  two  cornel  javelins  tipped  with  steel ;  some 
have  polished  quivers  at  their  backs ;  round  the  top 
of  the  chest  goes  a  pliant  chain  of  twisted  gold  cir- 
cling the  neck.  Three  are  the  companies  of  horse, 
three  the  leaders  that  scour  the  plain ;  twelve  boys 
follow  each,  a  glittering  show,  in  equal  divisions  and 
commanded  alike.  The  first  of  the  youthful  banda 
is  led  as  to  victory  by  a  young  Priam,  who  revives  his 
grandsire's  name,  thy  princely  ofi'spring,  Polites,  des- 
tined to  people  Italy ;  him  a  Thracian  steed  carries, 
dappled  with  spots  of  white,  with  white  on  the  ex- 
tremes of  his  prancing  feet,  and  white  on  his  towering 
brow.  Next  is  Atj's,  whence  comes  the  house  of 
Roman  Atii  —  At3's  the  3'oung,  the  bo3ish  friend  of 
the  boy  lulus.  Last  of  all,  and  excelling  all  in 
beaut}',  lulus  rides  in  on  a  Sidonian  steed,  bestowed 
on  him  by  Dido  the  fair,  in  remembrance  of  herself, 
and  in  testimonj-  of  her  love.  The  remaining  youth 
are  borne  on  Trinacrian  horses  from  old  Acestes'  stalls. 
The  Dardans  welcome  them  with  reassuring  plaudits, 
and  gaze  on  them  with  rapture,  and  trace  in  their 
young  faces  the  features  of  their  old  sires.  Soon  as 
the  riders  have  made  their  joyous  survey  of  the  whole 
gazing  crowd  and  of  their  friends'  loving  eyes,  Epyti- 
des  gives  the  expected  signal  with  far-reaching  shout 


BOOK   V.  249 

and  loud  cracking  whip.  In  regular  order  they  gal- 
lop asunder,  the  three  companies  breaking  and  parting 
right  and  left ;  and  again,  at  the  word  of  command, 
they  wheel  round,  and  charge  each  other  with  leveled 
lances.  Then  they  essay  other  advances  and  other 
retreats  in  quarters  still  opposite,  each  entangling 
each  in  circles  within  circles,  and  in  their  real  armor 
raise  an  image  of  battle.  Now  they  expose  their 
backs  in  flight,  now  they  turn  their  spear-points  in 
charge,  now  as  in  truce  they  ride  along  side  by  side. 
Even  as  men  tell  of  that  old  lab3Tinth  in  loft}-  Crete, 
its  way  cunningly  woven  with  blind  high  walls,  and 
the  ambiguous  mystery  of  its  thousand  paths,  wind- 
ing till  the  pursuer's  every  trace  was  baffled  b^^  a  maze 
without  solution  and  without  return,  not  unlike  are  the 
courses  in  which  these  sons  of  the  Teucrians  inter- 
lace their  movements  — ■  a  gamesome  tangle  of  flying 
and  fighting,  as  it  were  dolphins  that  swimming  the 
water}'  seas  dart  through  the  Carpathian  and  the  Liby- 
an, and  sport  along  the  billows.  Such  was  the  form  of 
exercise,  and  such  the  game  that  Ascanius,  when  he 
built  the  cincturing  walls  of  Alba  the  Long,  was  the 
first  to  revive,  and  taught  the  early  Latians  to  celebrate 
it  as  he  had  done  in  his  boyhood,  he  and  the  3'outh  of 
Troy  with  him  ;  the  men  of  Alba  taught  their  sons ; 
from  them  mighty  Rome  received  the  tradition  and 
maintained  the  observance  of  her  sires ;  and  the  boys 
still  bear  the  name  of  Troy,  and  their  band  is  styled 
the  band  of  Troy.  Thus  far  went  the  solemn  games  in 
honor  of  the  deified  sire. 

Now  it  was  that  Fortune  exchanged  her  old  faith  for 
new.  While  they  are  rendering  to  the  tomb  the  due 
solemnities  of  the  varied  gamee,  Juno,  Saturn's  daugh- 
ter, has  sped  down  Iris  from  heaven  to  the  fleet  of 


250  THE  yENEID. 

Ilion,  with  breath  of  winds  to  waft  her  on  her  wa}^  — 
Juno,  deep-brooding  over  many  thoughts,  her  ancient 
wrath  yet  unsated.  Speeding  along  her  many-colored 
bow,  seen  of  none,  runs  swiftly  down  the  celestial 
maid.  She  beholds  that  mighty  concourse  ;  she  looks 
round  on  the  coast,  and  sees  harbor  abandoned  and 
fleet  forsaken.  Far  away,  in  the  privacy  of  a  solitary 
beach,  the  Trojan  dames  were  weeping  for  lost  Anchi- 
ses,  and,  as  they  wept,  were  gazing,  one  and  all,  wist- 
fully on  the  great  deep.  Alas,  that  wearied  souls 
should  still  have  those  many  waters  to  pass,  and  that 
vast  breadth  of  sea !  Such  the  one  cry  of  every  heart. 
Oh  for  a  city  !  the  toils  of  the  main  are  a  weariness  to. 
bear !  So,  then,  in  the  midst  of  them,  she  suddenly 
alights  —  no  novice  in  the  ways  of  doing  hurt  —  and 
lays  by  her  heavenly  form  and  heavenly  raiment.  She 
takes  the  shape  of  Beroe,  the  aged  wife  of  Doryclus  of 
Tmaros,  a  dame  who  once  had  had  race  and  name  and 
children,  and  in  this  guise  stands  in  the  midst  of  the 
Dardan  matrons.  '  Wretched  women,'  cries  she,  '  not 
to  have  been  dragged  to  the  death  of  battle  by  the 
force  of  Achaia  under  our  country's  walls  !  Hapless 
nation  !  What  worse  than  death  has  Fortune  in  store 
for  you  ?  Here  is  the  seventh  summer  rolling  on  since 
Troy's  overthrow,  and  all  the  while  we  are  being 
driven,  land  and  ocean  over,  among  all  the  rocks  of  an 
unfriendly  sea,  under  all  the  stars  of  heaven,  as  through 
the  great  deep  we  follow  after  retreating  Italy,  and  are 
tossed  from  wave  to  wave.  Here  is  the  brother-land 
of  Er^'x ;  here  is  Acestes,  our  ancient  friend.  Who 
shall  gainsay  digging  a  foundation,  and  giving  a  people 
the  city  thej^  crave?  O  my  country  !  O  gods  of  our 
homes,  snatched  in  vain  from  the  foe !  Shall  there  never 
be  walls  named  with  the  name  of  Troy  ?     Shall  I  never 


BOOK   V,  251 

on  earth  see  the  streams  that  Hector  loved  —  his  Xan- 
thus  and  his  Simois?  Come,  join  me  in  burning  up 
these  accursed  ships.  For  in  my  sleep  methought  the 
likeness  of  Cassandra  the  seer  put  blazing  torches  into 
my  hands.  Here,*  she  said,  '  and  here  onl}',  look  for 
Troy ;  here,  and  here  only,  is  your  home.  The  hour 
for  action  is  come.  Heaven's  wonders  brook  not  man's 
dela}'.  See  here !  four  altars  to  Neptune.  The  god 
himself  gives  us  the  fire  and  the  will.' 

So  saying,  she  is  the  first  to  snatch  the  baleful  brand 
—  swinging  back  her  hand  on  high  ;  with  strong  effort 
she  whirls  and  flings  it.  The  dames  of  Ilion  gaze  with 
straining  mind  and  wildered  brain.  Then  one  of  the 
crowd,  the  eldest  of  all,  Pyrgo,  the  royal  nurse  of 
Priam's  man}'  sons  :  '  No  Beroe  have  you  here,  matrons 
— this  is  not  Dor^'clus'  wife,  of  Rhoeteum  -^  mark  those 
signs  of  heavenly  beauty,  those  glowing  eyes  —  what  a 
presence  is  there  —  what  features  —  what  a  tone  in  her 
voice  —  what  majesty  in  *her  gait!  Beroe,.  I  myself 
parted  from  but  now,  and  left  her  sick  and  sullen  to 
think  that  she  alone  should  fail  at  this  observance,  nor 
pay  Anchises  the  honor  that  is  his  due.'  Such  were 
her  words,  while  the  matrons,  doubtful  at  first,  were 
looking  on  the  ships  with  evil  eyes,  distracted  between 
their  fatal  yearning  for  a  countr}^  now  theirs,  and  the 
voice  of  destiny  from  realms  be3^ond  the  sea  —  when  the 
goddess,  spreading  her  two  wings,  soared  up  into  the 
sky  and  severed  the  clouds  as  she  flew  with  the  giant 
span  of  her  bow.  Then  indeed,  maddened  by  the  por- 
tent, goaded  by  frenz}^,  they  shriek  one  and  all,  and 
snatch  fire  from  house  and  hearth  —  some  strip  the 
altars,  and  fling  on  the  vessels  leaf  and  bough  and 
brand.  The  fire-god  revels  in  full  career  along  bench 
and  oar,  and  painted  pine-wood  stern.     The  news  of  the 


252  THE  jENEID, 

fleet  on  fire  is  carried  by  Eumelus  to  Anchises'  tomb, 
and  the  seats  in  the  circus.  They  look  back,  and  with 
their  own  eyes  see  sparks  and  smoke  in  a  black  flicker- 
ing cloud.  First  of  all  Ascanius,  riding  in  triumph  at 
the  head  of  his  cavalry,  spurred  his  horse  just  as  he 
was  to  the  wildering  camp,  while  his  breathless  guar- 
dians strive  in  vain  to  stay  him.  '  What  strange  mad- 
ness this?  whither  now,  whither  would  ye  go,'  cries  he, 
'  my  poor  countrywomen  ?  It  is  not  the  Argive  foe  and 
his  hated  camp  —  it  is  your  own  hopes  that  you  are 
burning.  See,  I  am  your  own  Ascanius '  —  at  his  feet 
he  flung  his  empty  helmet  which  he  was  wearing  in 
sport  as  he  helped  to  raise  the  image  of  war.  Quick 
follows  JEneas,  quick  the  Teucrian  host  at  his  heels. 
But  the  matrons  are  flying  in  panic  along  the  coast, 
now  here,  now  there,  stealing  to  the  thickest  woods 
and  the  deepest  caves.  They  loathe  the  deed  and  the 
daylight.  Sobered,  the}'  know  their  friends  again,  and 
Juno  is  exorcised  from  their  souls.  But  not  for  all 
this  will  blaze  and  burning  resign  their  unslaked  pow- 
ers :  deep  among  the  moistened  timber  smolders  the 
quick  tow,  discharging  a  slow  lazy  smoke  :  the  crawl- 
ing heat  prej'S  on  the  keels,  and  the  plague  sinks  down 
into  the  vessels'  everj^  limb,  and  strength  of  giant 
warriors  and  streaming  water-floods  are  all  of  no  avail. 
Then  good  -^neas  began  to  tear  his  raiment  from  his 
back  and  call  the  gods  for  aid,  and  raise  his  hands  in 
prayer :  '  Jove  Almighty,  if  thy  hate  would  not  yet 
sweep  off  the  whole  Trojan  race  to  a  man,  if  thy  ancient 
goodness  has  yet  any  regard  for  human  suffering,  grant 
the  fleet  to  escape  from  flame  now,  Father,  even  now, 
and  rescue  from  death  the  shattered  commonweal  of 
Troy.  Or  else  do  thou  with  thy  wrathful  bolt  send 
down  this  poor  remnant  to  the  grave,  if  that  is  my  fit 


BOOK   V.  253 

reward,  and  here  with  th}^  own  right  hand  overwhelm 
us  all.'  Scarce  had  the  words  been  breathed,  when  a 
black  tempest  is  set  loose,  raging  with  fierce  bursts  of 
rain :  the  thunder  peals  thrill  through  highland  and 
lowland  —  down  from  the  whole  sk^^  pours  a  torrent  of 
blinding  water,  thickened  to  blackness  by  the  southern 
winds  —  the  ships  are  filled,  the  smoldering  timbers 
soaked  —  till  every  spark  is  quenched  at  last,  and  all 
the  vessels,  with  the  loss  of  four,  rescued  from  the 
deadly  plague. 

But  father  ^neas,  staggering  under  this  cruel  blow, 
began  to  shift  from  side  to  side  a  vast  burden  of  care, 
as  he  pondered  should  he  settle  in  the  plains  of  Sicily, 
shutting  his  ears  to  Fate's  voice,  or  still  make  for  the 
shores  of  Ital3^  Then  Nautes  the  aged  —  whom  Tri- 
tonian  Pallas  singled  from  his  kind,  to  teach  her  lore 
and  dower  him  with  the  fame  of  abundant  wisdom  — 
hers  the  oracular  utterances  which  told  what  Heaven's 
awful  wrath  portended,  or  what  the  stern  sequence  of 
destin}'  required  —  he  it  was  that  addressed  ^neas 
thus  in  words  of  comfort :  '  Goddess-born,  be  it  ours 
to  follow  as  Fate  pulls  us  to  or  fro ;  come  what  may, 
there  is  no  conquering  fortune  but  b}'  endurance.  Here 
you  have  Acestes,  the  blood  of  Dardanus  and  of  gods 
mingling  in  his  veins  —  make  him  the  partner  of  your 
thoughts,  and  invite  the  aid  he  will  gladly  give.  Con- 
sign to  him  the  crews  whom  your  missing  ships  have 
left  homeless,  and  those  who  are  tired  of  high  emprise 
and  of  following  your  fortunes  —  the  old,  old  men,  and 
the  matrons,  wear}-  of  ocean,  and  whatever  you  have 
that  is  weak  and  timorsome  —  set  these  apart,  and 
suffer  them  to  have  in  this  land  a  city  of  rest.  The 
town's  name,  with  leave  given,  they  shall  call  Acesta.* 

The  fire  thus  kindled  by  the  words  of  his  aged  friend, 


254  THE  jENEID. 

now  indeed  the  thoughts  of  his  mind  distract  him  utterty. 
And  now  black  Night,  car-borne,  was  mounting  the  sk}^, 
when  the  semblance  of  his  sire  Anchises,  gliding  from 
heaven,  seemed  to  break  on  his  musings  in  words  like 
these :  '  My  sOn,  dearer  to  me  of  old  than  life,  while 
life  was  yet  mine — my  son,  trained  in  the  school  of 
Troy's  destiny,  I  come  hither  at  the  command  of  Jove 
—  of  him  who  chased  the  fire  from  your  ships,  and 
looked  down  on  your  need  in  pitj^  from  on  high.  Obey 
the  counsel  which  Nautes  the  aged  now  so  wisely  gives 
you.  The  flower  of  3^our  3'outb,  the  stoutest  hearts  you 
have,  let  these  and  these  only  follow  you  to  Italy  — 
hard  and  of  iron  grain  is  the  race  you  have  to  war  down 
in  Latium.  Still,  ere  }■  ou  go  there,  come  to  the  infernal 
halls  of  Dis,  and  travel  through  Avernus'  deep  shades 
till  you  meet  your  father.  No,  my  son,  godless  Tar- 
tarus and  its  specters  of  sorrow  have  no  hold  on  me  — 
the  company  of  the  good  is  my  loved  resort  and  Elysium 
my  dwelling.  The  virgin  Sibyl  shall  point  3'ou  the  wa}*, 
and  the  streaming  blood  of  black  cattle  unlock  the  gate. 
There  j^ou  shall  hear  of  your  whole  posterity,  and  the 
city  that  Fate  has  in  store.  And  now  farewell,  dark 
Night  has  reached  the  midst  of  her  swift  career,  and 
the  relentless  Daystar  has  touched  me  with  the  breath 
of  his  panting  steeds.'  He  said,  and  vanished,  like 
smoke,  into  unsubstantial  air.  '  Whither  away  now  ! ' 
cries  ^neas  :  '  whither  in  such  haste  ?  from  whom  are 
you  flying?  what  power  v^^ithholds  you  from  Tcij  em- 
brace ? '  With  these  words  he  wakes  to  life  the  embers 
and  their  slumbering  flame,  and  in  suppliance  worships 
the  god  of  Pergamus  and  hoary  Vesta's  shrine  with 
duteous  meal  and  a  full-charged  censer. 

At  once  he  calls  his  friends  to  his  side,  and  Acestes, 
first  of  all,  shows  to  them  the  command  of  Jove,  and 


BOOK   V.  255 

his  loved  father's  precept,  and  what  is  now  the  settled 
judgment  of  his  mind.  Brief  is  the  parle}',  nor  does 
Acestes  gainsay  his  bidding.  Thej^  remove  the  matrons 
to  the  new  cit3^'s  roll,  and  disembark  a  willing  crew  of 
hearts  that  need  not  the  stir  of  great  renown.  For 
themselves  they  repair  the  benches  and  restore  the  ves- 
sels' half-burnt  timber,  shape  the  oars  and  fit  the  ropes, 
a  little  band,  but  a  living  well-spring  of  martial  worth. 
^Eneas,  meanwhile,  is  marking  out  the  city  with  the 
plough,  and  assigning  the  dwellings  by  lot,  creating  an 
Ilium  here,  and  there  a  Troy.  Acestes,  true  Trojan, 
wields  with  joy  his  new  scepter,  and  proclaims  a  court, 
and  gives  laws  to  his  assembled  senate.* 

And  now  the  whole  nation  had  enjoj^ed  a  nine  days' 
banquet,  and  the  altars  had  received  due  observance ; 
the  sleeping  winds  have  lulled  the  waves,  and  the  re- 
peated whispers  of  the  south  invite  to  the  deep  once 
more.  Uprises  along  the  winding  shore  a  mighty  sound 
of  weeping ;  prolonged  embraces  make  day  and  night 
move  slow.  Even  the  matrons,  even  the  weaklings, 
who  so  latety  shuddered  at  the  look  of  the  sea,  and 
could  not  bear  its  name,  would  now  fain  go  and  endure 
all  the  weariness  of  the  journey.  Them  the  good 
^neas  cheers  with  words  of  kindness,  and  tearfull}- 
commends  them  to  Acestes,  his  kinsman  and  theirs. 
Then  he  bids  slay  three  calves  to  Eryx,  and  a  ewe-lamb 
to  the  weather  gods,  and  in  due  course  has  the  cable 
cut,  while  he,  his  head  wreathed  with  stript  olive  leaves, 
stands  aloft  in  the  prow  with  a  charger  in  hand,  and 
far  into  the  briny  waves  flings  the  entrails,  and  pours 
the  sparkling  wine.  A  wind  gets  up  from  the  stern, 
and  escorts  them  on  their  wa3^     Each  vying  with  each, 

♦  Three  lines  omitted  in  the  MS.  —  [Ed.] 


256  THE  jENEID. 

the  crews  strike  the  water  and  sweep  the  marble  sur- 
face. 

Meanwhile  Venus,  harassed  with  care,  bespeaks  Nep- 
tune, and  utters  from  her  heart  plaints  like  these  :  '  The 
fell  wrath  of  Juno's  bottomless  heart  constrains  me, 
Neptune,  to  stoop  to  all  the  abasement  of  prayer  — 
wrath  that  no  length  of  time  softens,  no  piety  of  man, 
unconquered  and  unsilenced  by  Jove's  behest,  b}'  des- 
tiny itself.  It  is  not  enough  that  her  monstrous  malice 
has  torn  the  heart  from  the  breast  of  Phrygia,  and 
dragged  a  city  through  an  infinity  of  vengeance  —  the 
remnants  of  Tro}',  the  very  ashes  and  bones  of  the  slain 
—  these  she  pursues  ;  rage  so  fiendish  let  Mr  trace  to 
its  source.  Thou  th3'self  canst  bear  me  witness  but 
now  in  the  Libyan  waters,  what  mountains  she  raised 
all  in  a  moment  —  all  ocean  she  confounded  with 
heaven,  blindly  relying  on  -(Eolus'  storms  to  convulse 
a  realm  where  thou  art  master.  See  now  —  goading 
the  matrons  of  Tro}^  to  crime,  she  has  basel}^  burnt 
their  ships,  and  driven  them  in  the  ruins  of  their  fleet 
to  leave  their  mates  to  a  home  on  an  unknown  shore. 
These  poor  relics,  then,  let  tliem^  I  beg,  spread  the  sail 
in  safet}'  along  thy  waters ;  let  them  touch  the  mouth 
of  Laurentian  Tiber,  if  my  prayer  is  lawful,  if  that  city 
is  granted  them  of  Fate.' 

Then  thus  spake  Saturn's  son,  lord  of  the  ocean  deep  : 
'  All  right  hast  thou,  queen  of  Cythera,  to  place  thy 
trust  in  these  realms  of  mine,  whence  thou  drawest  th}^ 
birth.  And  I  have  earned  it  too  —  often  have  I  checked 
the  madness,  the  mighty  raving  of  sky  and  sea ;  nor 
less  on  earth  (bear  witness  Xanthus  and  Simois !)  has 
thy  ^neas  known  my  care.  When  Achilles  was  chas- 
ing Troy's  gasping  bands,  forcing  them  against  their 
own  ramparts,  and  offering  whole  hecatombs  to  Death, 


BOOK   V.  257 

till  the  choked  rivers  groaned  again,  and  Xanthus  could 
not  thread  his  wa}',  or  roll  himself  into  the  sea  —  in 
that  da\' ,  as  ^neas  confronted  Peleus'  mighty  son  with 
weaker  arm  and  weaker  aid  from  heaven,  I  snatched 
him  away  in  a  circling  cloud,  even  while  my  whole 
heart  was  bent  on  overthrowing  from  their  base  the 
buildings  of  mj^  own  hand,  the  walls  of  perjured 
Troy.  As  my  mind  was  then,  it  abides  now.  Banish 
thy  fears ;  safely,  according  to  thy  pra3^er,  he  shall 
reach  Avernus'  haven.  One  there  shall  be,  and  one 
only,  whom  thou  shalt  ask  in  vain  from  the  ingulfing 
surge  —  one  life,  and  one  only,  shall  be  given  for 
thousands.' 

With  these  words,  having  soothed  to  joy  the  goddess' 
heart,  the  august  Father  yokes  his  steeds  with  a  yoke 
of  gold,  and  puts  to  their  fierce  mouths  the  foaming 
bit,  and  gives  full  course  to  his  flowing  reins.  The 
azure  car  glides  lightly  over  the  water's  surface  —  the 
waves  sink  down,  the  swelling  sea  stills  its  waters 
under  the  wheels  of  thunder  —  the  storm-clouds  fly 
away  over  the  wide  waste  of  heaven.  Then  come  the 
hundred  shapes  of  attendant  powers  :  enormous  whales 
and  Glaucus'  aged  train,  and  Ino's  3'oung  Palsemon,  and 
rapid  Tritons,  and  the  whole  host  that  Phorcus  leads  ; 
on  the  left  are  Thetis,  and  Melite,  and  maiden  Pano- 
pea,  Nesaee,  and  Spio,  and  Thalia,  and  Cymodoce. 

And  now  father  ^neas  feels  a  soft  thrill  of  succeed- 
ing joy  shoot  through  his  anxious  bosom ;  at  once  he 
bids  every  mast  be  reared,  every  sail  stretched  on  its 
yard-arm.  One  and  all  strain  the  rope  and  loosen  the 
sheet,  now  right,  now  loft  —  one  and  all  turn  to  and 
fro  the  sailyard's  lofty  horns  ;  the  fleet  is  wafted  by  the 
gales  it  loves.  First,  before  all,  Palinurus  led  the  crowd- 
ing ranks ;  after  him  the  rest,  as  bidden,  shaped  their 
17 


258  THE  jENEID. 

course.  And  now  dewy  Night  had  well-nigh  reached 
the  cope  of  heaven's  arch  —  in  calm  repose  the  sailors 
were  relaxing  their  limbs,  stretched  each  by  his  oar 
along  the  hard  benches  —  when  Sleep's  power,  drop- 
ping lightly  down  from  the  stars  of  heaven,  parted  the 
dusky  air,  and  swam  through  the  night,  in  quest  of 
you,  poor  Pahnurus,  with  a  fatal  freight  of  dreams  for 
your  guiltless  head.  The  god  has  sat  down  high  on 
the  stern,  in  the  likeness  of  Phorbas,  and  these  are  the 
words  he  utters :  '  Son  of  lasus,  Pahnurus,  the  sea 
itself  is  steering  the  fleet ;  the  winds  breathe  evenly 
and  fully ;  it  is  slumber's  own  hour ;  come,  relax  that 
strained  head,  and  let  those  weary  eyes  play  truant 
from  their  toil.  I  myself  will  undertake  3^our  functions 
awhile  in  j^our  stead.'  Hardly  raising  his  eyes,  Pali- 
nurus  answered  him  thus  :  —  '7  blind  m3-self  to  smil- 
ing seas  and  sleeping  waves :  is  that  3"our  will  ?  / 
place  my  faith  on  this  fickle  monster?  What?  trust 
JEneas  to  lying  gales  and  fair  skies,  whose  fraud  I  have 
rued  so  often? '  So  he  said,  and  went  on  cleaving  and 
clinging,  never  dropping  his  hand  from  the  rudder,  nor 
his  eye  from  the  stars.  When  lo  !  the  god  waves  over 
his  two  temples  a  bough  dripping  with  Lethe's  dews, 
and  drugged  by  the  charms  of  Styx,  and  in  his  own 
despite  closes  his  swimming  eyes.  Scarce  had  sudden 
slumber  begun  to  unstring  his  limbs,  when  the  power, 
leaning  over  him,  hurled  him  headlong  into  the  stream- 
ing waves,  tearing  away  part  of  the  vessel's  stern  and 
the  rudder  as  he  fell,  with  many  a  cry  for  help  that 
never  came,  while  Sleep  himself  soared  high  on  his 
wings  into  the  yielding  air.  Safely,  nevertheless,  rides 
the  fleet  over  the  water,  traveling  undaunted  in  the 
strength  of  Neptune's  roj-al  promise.  And  now  it  was 
nearing  the  cliflfe  of  the  Sirens'  isle,  clifls  unfriendly  in 


BOOK   VI,  259 

days  of  old,  and  white  with  raany  a  seaiiian*s  bones, 
and  the  rocks  were  sounding  hollow  from  afar  with  the 
untiring  surge,  when  the  great  Father  perceived  the 
unstead}'  reel  of  the  masterless  ship,  and  guided  it  him- 
self through  the  night  of  waters,  groaning  oft,  and  stag- 
gering under  the  loss  of  his  friend :  '  Victim  of  faith 
in  the  calm  of  sky  and  sea,  you  will  lie,  Palinurus,  a 
naked  torpse  on  a  strand  unknown.* 


BOOK  VI. 

So  saying  and  weeping,  he  gives  rope  to  his  fleet, 
and  in  due  time  is  wafted  smoothly  to  Cumae's  shores 
of  Euboean  fame.  They  turn  their  prows  seaward : 
then  the  anchor  with  griping  fang  began  to  moor  vessel 
after  vessel,  and  crooked  keels  fringe  all  the  coast. 
Wrth  fiery  zeal  the  crews  leap  out  on  the  Hesperian 
shore  :  some  look  for  the  seed  of  fire  where  it  lies  deep 
down  in  the  veins  of  flint :  some  strip  the  woods,  the 
wild  beast's  shaggy  covert,  and  point  with  joy  t^  the 
streams  the}'  find.  But  good  -^neas  repairs  to  the 
heights  on  which  Apollo  sits  exalted,  and  the  privacy 
of  the  dread  Sibyl,  stretching  far  away  into  a  vast 
cavern  —  the  Sibyl,  into  whose  breast  the  prophet  that 
speaks  at  Delos  breathes  his  own  mighty  mind  and 
sou!,  and  opens  the  future  to  her  e^ye.  And  now  the}' 
are  entering  the  groves  of  the  Trivian  goddess  and  the 
golden  p'^lace. 

Daedalus,  so  runs  the  legend,  flying  from  Minos' 
scepter,  dared  to  trust  himself  in  air  on  swift  wings 
of  his  own  workmanship,  sailed  to  the  cold  north 
along  an  unwonted  way,  and  at  last  stood  buoyant  on 


260  THE  uENEID. 

the  top  of  this  Eubosan  hill.  Grateful  to  the  land  that 
first  received  him,  he  dedicated  to  thee,  Phoebus,  his 
feathery  oarage,  and  raised  a  mighty  temple.  On  the 
doors  was  seen  Androgeos'  death :  there  too  were  the 
sons  of  Cecrops,  constrained  —  O  cruel  woe  !  —  to  pay 
in  penalty  the  yearly  tale  of  seven  of  their  sons'  lives  : 
the  urn  is  standing,  and  the  lots  drawn  out.  On  the 
other  side,  breasting  the  wave,  the  Gnossian  land 
frowns  responsive.  •  There  is  Pasiphae's  tragic  passion 
for  the  bull,  and  the  mingled  birth,  the  Minotaur, 
half  man,  half  brute,  a  monument  of  monstrous  love. 
There  is  the  edifice,  that  marvel  of  toiling  skill,  and 
its  inextricable  maze  —  inextricable,  had  not  Daedalus 
in  pity  for  the  enthralling  passion  of  the  royal  prin- 
cess, himself  unraveled  the  craft  and  mystery  of  those 
chambers,  guiding  the  lover's  dark  steps  with  a  clue 
of  thread.  You  too,  poor  Icarus,  had  borne  no  mean 
part  in  that  splendid  portraiture,  would  grief  have 
given  art  its  way.  Twice  the  artist  essayed  to  rep- 
resent the  tragedy  in  gold :  twice  the  father's  hands 
dropped  down  palsied.  So  they  would  have  gone  on 
scanning  all  in  succession,  had  not  Achates  returned 
from  his  eiTand,  and  with  him  the  priestess  of  Phoebus 
and  Diana,  Deiphobe,  Glaucus'  daughter,  who  thus 
bespeaks  the  king :  '  Not  this  the  time  for  shows  like 
these  ;  your  present  work  is  to  sacrifice  seven  bullocks 
untouched  by  the  yoke,  seven  sheep  duly  chosen.' 

This  said  to  JEneas,  whose  followers  swiftly  perform 
the  prescribed  rites,  she  summons  the  Teucrians  into 
the  lofty  temple,  herself  its  priestess.  One  huge  side 
of  the  Euboean  cliff  has  been  hollowed  into  a  cave, 
approached  by  a  hundred  broad  avenues,  a  hundred 
mouths  —  from  these  a  hundred  voices  are  poured,  the 
responses   of  the   Sibyl.     Just   as   they  were   on  the 


BOOK   VI.  261 

threshold,  '  It  is  the  moment  to  pray  for  the  oracle/ 
cries  the  maiden  ;  '  the  god,  the  god  is  here.'  Thus  as 
she  spoke  at  the  gate,  her  visage,  her  hue  changed  sud- 
denl}-  —  her  hair  started  from  its  braid  —  her  bosom 
heaves  and  pants,  her  wild  soul  swells  with  frenzj'  — 
she  grows  larger  to  the  view,  and  her  tones  are  not  of 
eartl^  as  the  breath  of  the  divine  presence  comes  on 
her  nearer  and  nearer.  '  What !  a  laggard  at  vows 
and  praj'ers  ?  -^neas  of  Tro}-  a  laggard  ?  for  that  is 
the  onl}'  spell  to  part  asunder  the  great  closed  lips  of 
the  terror-smitten  shrine.'  She  said,  and  was^  mute. 
A  cold  shudder  runs  through  the  Teucrians'  iron  frames, 
and  their  king  pours  out  his  very  soul  in  prayer: 
'  Phoebus,  ever  Tro3''s  pit3'ing  friend  in  her  cruel 
agonies  ^—  thou  who  didst  level  Paris'  Dardan  bow  and 
string  his  Dardan  arm  against  the  vast  frame  of  ^aci- 
des  —  by  thy  guidance  I  have  penetrated  all  these  un- 
known seas  that  swathe  might}'  continents.  The  Massj'- 
lian  tribes,  thrust  away  by  Nature  out  of  view,  and  the 
quicksands  that  environ  their  coasts  —  now  at  last  our 
hands  are  on  the  flying  skirts  of  Italy.  Oh,  let  it  suffice 
Tro3''s  fortune  to  have  followed  us  thus  far !  Ye  too 
may  now  justl}'  spare  our  nation  of  Pergamus,  gods 
and  goddesses  all,  whose  ejes  were  affronted  by  Troy 
and  the  great  glories  of  Dardan  land.  And  thou,  most 
holy  prophetess,  that  canst  read  the  future  as  the  pres- 
ent, grant  me  —  I  am  asking  for  no  crown  that  Fate 
does  not  owe  me  —  grant  a  settlement  in  Latium  to  the 
Teucrians,  their  wandering  gods,  even  the  travel-tossed 
deities  of  Troy.  Then  to  Phoebus  and  his  Trivian 
sister  I  will  set  up  a  temple  of  solid  marble,  and  appoint 
feast-da3's  in  Phoebus'  name.  For  thee  too  an  august 
shrine  is  in  store  in  that  our  future  realm.  For  there  I 
will  lodge  thy  oracles  and  the  secret  words  of  destiny 


262  THE  jENEID. 

which  thou  shalt  speak  to  my  nation,  and  consecrate 
chosen  men  to  thy  gracious  service.  Only  commit  not 
thy  strains  to  leaves,  lest  they  float  all  confusedly  the 
sport  of  the  whirling  winds.  Utter  them  with  thine 
own  mouth,  I  implore  thee.'     So  his  prayer  ended. 

But  the  prophetess,  not  yet  Phoebus'  willing  slave,  is 
storming  with  giant  frenzy  in  her  cavern,  as  thoug|^  she 
hoped  to  unseat  from  her  bosom  the  mighty  god.  All 
the  more  sharpl}'  he  plies  her  mouth  with  his  bit  till  its 
fury  flags,  tames  her  savage  soul,  and  molds  her  to  his 
will  by  strong  constraint.  And  now  the  hundred  mighty 
doors  of  the  chamber  have  flown  open  of  their  own 
accord,  and  are  wafting  through  the  air  the  voice  of 
prophecy  :  '  O  you  whose  vast  perils  b}^  sea  are  over  at 
length !  but  on  land  there  are  heavier  3^et  in  store. 
The  sons  of  Dardanus  shall  come  to  the  realm  of  Lavi- 
nium  —  from  this  care  set  jour  mind  at  rest  —  but 
think  not  that  they  shall  also  have  joy  of  their  coming. 
War,  savage  war,  and  the  Tiber  foaming  with  surges 
of  blood,  is  the  vision  I  see.  No  lack  for  you  of  Simois, 
or  Xanthus,  or  a  Dorian  camp.  Another  Achilles  is 
reserved  for  Latium,  he  too  goddess-born  —  nor  will 
Juno  ever  be  seen  to  quit  her  fastened  hold  on  Troy  — 
while  you,  a  needy  suppUant  —  what  nation,  what  city 
in  Italy  will  not  have  had  you  knocking  at  its  gates ! 
Once  more  will  an  alien  bride  bring  on  the  Teucrians 
all  this  woe  —  once  more  a  foreign  bed.  But  you,  yield 
not  to  affliction,  but  go  forth  all  the  bolder  to  meet  it, 
so  far  as  your  destiny  gives  you  leave.  The  first 
glimpse  of  safety,  little  as  you  dream  it,  shall  dawn  on 
you  from  a  Grecian  town.' 

Such  are  the  words  with  which  Cumse's  Sibyl  from 
her  cell  shrills  forth  awful  mysteries  and  booms  again 
from  the  cavern,  robing  her  truth  in  darkness  —  such 


BOOK    VL  263 

the  violence  with  which  Apollo  shakes  the  bridle  in  her 
frenzied  mouth  and  plies  her  bosom  with  his  goad. 
Soon  as  her  frenzy  abated  and  the  madness  of  her  lips 
grew  calm,  ^neas  the  hero  began  :  '  Ko  feature,  awful 
maiden,  that  suffering  can  show  rises  on  m}'  sight  new 
or  unlooked-for  —  I  have  foreseen  all  and  scanned  all 
in  fancy  alread}".  I  have  but  one  prater  to  make : 
since  here  it  is  that  Fame  tells  of  the  gate  of  the  in- 
fernal monarch,  and  the  murky  pool  of  Acheron's  over- 
flow, grant  me  to  pass  to  the  sight,  to  the  presence  of 
my  loved  father —  teach  the  wa3',  and  unlock  the  sacred 
doors.  Him  I  bore  away  through  flames  and  a  driving 
tempest  of  darts  on  these  my  shoulders  and  rescued 
him  from  the  midst  of  the  foe :  he  was  the  companion 
of  m}'  journc}',  and  encountered  with  me  all  the  waves 
of  ocean,  all  the  terrors  of  sea  and  sky  in  his  own  feeble 
frame,  beyond  the  strength  and  the  day  of  old  age. 
Nay  more  —  that  I  would  kneel  to  thee  and  approach 
thy  dwelling  —  this  was  his  charge,  his  oft-repeated 
prayer.  Oh,  of  thy  grace,  pit^'  the  son  and  the  sire ; 
for  thou  art  all-powerful,  nor  is  it  for  naught  that 
Hecate  has  set  thee  over  the  groves  of  Avernus.  If 
Orpheus  had  the  power  to  fetch  back  the  shade  of  his 
wife,  by  the  help  of  his  Thracian  lyre  and  its  sounding 
strings  —  if  Pollux  redeemed  his  brother  by  dying  in 
turn  with -him,  and  went  and  returned  on  the  path  those 
many  times  —  wh}-  talk  of  Theseus,  why  of  great  Al- 
cidcs?  my  line,  like  theirs,  is  from  Jove  most  high.' 

Such  were  his  pra3'ers,  while  his  hands  clasped  the 
altar,  when  thus  the  prophetess  began :  '  Heir  of  the 
blood  of  gods,  son  of  Anchises  of  Tro}',  easy  is  the 
going  down  to  Avernus  —  all  night  and  all  day  the  gate 
of  gloomy  Pluto  stands  unbarred  ;  but  to  retrace  your 
footsteps,  and  win  your  way  back  to  the  upper  air,  that 


264  THE  jENEID. 

is  the  labor,  that  the  task.  There  have  been  a  few, 
favorites  of  gracious  Jove,  or  exalted  to  heaven  by  the 
blaze  of  inborn  worth,  themselves  sprung  from  the  gods, 
who  have  had  the  power.  The  whole  intervening  space 
is  possessed  by  woods,  and  lapped  lound  by  the  black 
windings  of  Cocytus'  stream.  And  now,  if  j^our  heart's 
yearning  is  so  great,  your  passion  so  strong,  twice  to 
stem  the  Stygian  pool,  twice  to  gaze  on  the  night  of 
Tartarus  —  if  it  be  your  jo}'  to  give  scope  to  a  mad- 
man's striving  —  hear  what  must  first  be  done.  Deep 
in  the  shade  of  a  tree  lurks  a  branch,  all  of  gold,  foliage 
ahke  and  limber  twig,  dedicated  to  the  service  of  the 
Juno  of  the  shades  ;  it  is  shrouded  by  the  whole  lab}'- 
rinth  of  the  forest,  closed  in  b}'  the  boskage  that  darkens 
the  glens.  Yet  none  ma}'  pierce  the  subterranean  m3's- 
tery,  till  a  man  have  gathered  from  the  tree  that  leafy 
sprout  of  gold,  for  this  it  is  that  fair  Proserpine  has 
ordained  to  be  brought  her  as  her  own  proper  tribute. 
Pluck  off  one,  another  is  there  unfailingl}-,  of  gold  as 
pure,  a  twig  burgeoning  with  as  fine  an  ore.  Let  then 
your  eye  be  keen  to  explore  it,  3'our  hand  quick  to 
pluck  it  when  dul}"  found,  for  it  will  follow  the  touch 
with  willingness  and,  ease,  if  you  have  a  call  from  Fate  ; 
if  not,  no  strength  of  3'ours  will  overcome  it,  no  force 
of  steel  tear  it  away.  But,  besides  this,  you  have  the 
breathless  corpse  of  a  friend  lying  unburied  —  alas  ! 
you  know  it  not  —  tainting  3'our  whole  fleet  with  the  air 
of  death,  while  3'ou  are  asking  Heaven's  will,  and  linger- 
ing on  this  our  threshold.  Him  first  consign  to  his 
proper  place,  and  hide  him  in  the  grave.  Lead  black 
cattle  to  the  altar :  be  this  the  expiation  to  pave  3'our 
wa}'.  Thus  at  last  you  shall  look  on  the  groves  of  St3'x 
and  tlie  realms  untrodden  of  the  living.'  She  said,  and 
closed  her  lips  in  silence. 


BOOK   VI.  265 

JEneas,  with  saddened  face  and  steadfast  eye,  moves 
on,  leaving  the  cave  behind,  and  revolves  in  his  mind 
the  secrets  of  the  future.  Achates,  ever  faithful,  walks 
at  his  side,  and  plants  his  foot  with  no  less  conscious- 
ness of  care.  ^  Many  were  the  things  exchanged  in 
their  ranging  talk  —  who  could  be  the  dead  comrade 
that  the  priestess  spoke  of,  what  the  corpse  that  needed 
burial.  And  lo !  Misenus,  soon  as  they  came,  there 
on  the  dry  beach  they  see  him,  snatched  by  death  that 
should  have  spared  him  —  Misenus,  sonof  JEolus,  than 
whom  none  was  mightier  to  stir  men's  hearts  with  his 
clarion,  and  kindle  with  music  the  war-god's  flame. 
Hector  the  great  had  been  his  chief:  in  Hector's  ser- 
vice he  performed  a  warrior's  part,  famous  alike  with 
the  trumpet  and  the  spear.  But  after  the  conquering 
arm  of  Achilles  robbed  his  master  of  hfe,  valiant  hero, 
he  made  hijnself  the  comrade  of  the  Dardan  -^neas, 
nor  found  the  standard  he  followed  meaner  than  of  old. 
But  in  those  days,  as  he  was  making  his  hollow  shell 
ring  over  the  waters,  infatuate  mortal,  challenging  the 
gods  to  compete,  Triton,  roused  to  jealousy,  seized 
him,  if  the  story  be  true,  and  plunged  him  in  a  moment 
in  the  billow  that  laps  among  the  rocks.  So  thej*  all 
stood  round,  uttering  loud  shrieks ;  louder  than  the 
rest  -^neas  the  good.  And  then  without  delay  they 
set  about  the  Sib3'rs  bidding,  weeping  sore,  and  in 
mournful  rivalry  heap  np  the  funeral  f)yre  with  trees, 
and  carr}'  it  into  the  sk}'. 

Awa}"  they  go  to  an  ancient  wood,  the  wild  beast's  tall 
covert  —  down  go  the  pitch-trees  ;  the  holm-oak  rings 
with  the  ax's  blows,  and  so  do  the  ashen  beams ;  the 
wedge  cleaves  through  the  fissile  oak  ;  they  roll  down 
from  the  heights  huge  mountain  ashes.  There  is 
^neas,  in  this,  as  in  other  labors,  the  first  to  cheer  on 


266  THE  yENEID. 

his  comrades,  and  wielding  a  weapon  like  theirs ;  and 
thus  he  ponders  in  the  sad  silence  of  his  own  breast, 
looking  at  the  immeasurable  wood,  and  thus  gives  ut- 
terance to  his  prajer :  '  Oh  that  at  this  moment  that 
golden  branch  on  the  tree  would  reveal  itself  to  our 
sight  in  all  this  depth  of  forest !  for  I  see  that  in  all 
things  the  prophetess  has  told  us  of  you,  Misenus, 
alas !  too  truly/  Scarce  had  he  spoken,  when,  as  by 
chance,  a  pair  of  doves  come  flying  along  the  sk}^, 
under  the  hero's  verj^  eyes,  and  settle  on  the  turf  at 
his  feet.  At  once  the  mighty  chief  recognizes  his 
mother's  birds,  and  gladly  breathes  a  second  prayer  : 
'  Oh  guide  us  on  our  waj^,  wherever  it  be,  and  as  ye  fly 
direct  our  steps  into  the  grove  where  the  precious 
branch  casts  its  shade  on  the  rich  ground  !  Thou  too 
forsake  not  our  perplexity,  O 'goddess  mother  ! '  Thus 
much  he  said,  and  checked  his  advancing  foot,  watch- 
ing to  see  what  prognostics  they  bring,  whither  they 
aim  their  onward  course.  They,  as  they  graze,  go 
ever  forward  on  the  wing,  as  far  as  the  eyes  of  the 
travelers  can  keep  them  in  view.  Then  when  they 
come  to  Avernus'  noisome  jaws,  swiftly  they  soar  aloft, 
and  gliding  through  the  clear  sky  settle  twain  on  the 
same  tree,  their  chosen  seat,  whence  there  flashed 
through  the  branches  the  contrasted  gleam  of  gold. 
Even  as  in  the  woods,  in  the  cold  of  midwinter,  the 
mistletoe  is  woi*  to  put  forth  new  leaves,  a  vegetable 
growth,  but  of  no  parent  tree,  and  with  its  yellow  pro- 
duce to  surround  the  tapering  boles,  so  looked  the  leafy 
gold  among  the  holm-oak's  dark  shade  —  so  in  the 
light  breeze  tinkled  the  foil.  JEneas  snatches  it  at 
once,  plucks  it  off  with  eagerness,  overpowering  its 
delay,  and  carries  it  to  the  home  of  the  prophetic 
Sibyl. 


BOOK   VI.  267 

Meantime,  with  not  less  zeal,  the  Teucrians  on  the 
shore  were  mourning  for  Miseniis,  and  pa3'ing  the  last 
honor  to  the  thankless  ashes.  First  the}^  raised  a  pile, 
unctuous  with  pine-wood,  and  high-heaped  with  planks 
of  oak  :  the}'  wreathe  its  sides  with  gloomy  foliage,  and 
set  up  before  it  funeral  cypresses,  and  adorn  it  with  a 
covering  of  refulgent  armor.  Some  make  ready  heated 
water  and  caldrons  bubbling  over  the  fire,  and  wash  and 
anoint  the  cold  corpse.  Loud  rings  the  wail :  then,  the 
dirge  over,  they  place  the  limbs  on  the  couch  that 
claims  them,  and  fling  over  them  purple  garments,  the 
dead  men's  usual  covering.  Some  put  their  shoulders 
to  the  heav}'  bier  in  melancholy  service,  and  after  an- 
cestral fashion,  with  averted  e^'es,  appl}^  the  torch  from 
under.  The  rich  heap  is  ablaze  —  offerings  of  incense, 
sacrificial  viands,  oil  streaming  from  the  bowl.  After 
that  the  ashes  were  fallen  in  and  the  blaze  was  lulled, 
the}'  drenched  with  wine  the  relics  and  the  thirsty  em- 
bers on  the  pyre,  and  Corynseus  gathered  up  the  bones, 
and  stored  them  in  a  brazen  urn.  He,  too,  carried 
round  pure  water,  and  sprinkled  thrice  the  comrades  of 
the  dead,  scattering  the  thin  drops  with  a  branch  of 
fruitful  olive  —  so  he  expiated  the  company,  and  spoke 
the  last  solemn  words.  But  good  jEneas  raises  over 
the  dead  a  monument  of  massive  size,  setting  up  for 
the  hero  his  own  proper  arms,  the  oar  and  the  trumpet, 
under  a  skyey  mountain,  which  is  now  from  him  called 
Misenus,  and  retains  from  age  to  age  the  everlasting 
name. 

This  done,  he  hastens  to  execute  the  Sibyl's  bidding. 
A  deep  cave  there  was,  yawning  wide  with  giant 
throat,  rough  and  shingly,  shadowed  by  the  black  pool 
and  the  gloom  of  the  forest  —  a  cave,  over  whose 
mouth  no  winged  thing  could  fly  unharmed,  so  poison- 


268  THE  JENEJD. 

OU8  the  breath  that  exhaling  from  its  pitchy  jaws 
steamed  up  to  the  sky  —  whence  Greece  has  given  the 
spot  the  name  Aornos.  Here  first  the  priestess  places 
in  sacrificial  station  four  black-skinned  bullocks,  and 
empties  wine  over  their  brows,  and  plucking  from  be- 
tween their  horns  the  hairs  of  the  crown,  throws  them 
into  the  hallowed  flame,  as  the  first-fruits  of  worship, 
with  loud  cries  on  Hecate,  queen  in  heaven,  and  Erebus 
both.  Others  put  the  knife  to  the  throat,  and  catch  in 
chargers  the  steaming  blood.  With  his  own  svv^ord 
^neas  strikes  down  a  lamb  of  sable  fleece,  for  the  Fu- 
ries' mother  and  her  mighty  sister,  and  a  barren  heifer 
for  thee,  dread  Proserpine.  Then  to  the  St3'gian  mon- 
arch he  rears  altars,  blazing  through  the  darkness,  and 
piles  on  the  flame  the  bulls'  carcasses  entire,  pouring  fat 
oil  on  the  entrails  all  aglow.  When,  hark  !  as  the  sun 
began  to  glimmer  and  dawn,  the  ground  is  bellowing 
under  their  feet,  and  the  wood-crowned  heights  are 
nodding,  and  the  baying  of  dogs  sounds  through  the 
gloom,  for  the  goddess  is  at  hand.  '  Hence,  hence  with 
3'our  unhallowed  feet!'  clamors  the  prophetess,  'and 
rid  the  whole  grove  of  your  presence.  And  you  — 
strike  into  the  road,  and  pluck  your  sword  from  his 
scabbard  —  now  is  the  hour  for  courage,  ^neas,  now 
for  a  stout  heart.'  No  more  she  said,  but  flung  herself 
wildly  into  the  cavern's  mouth  ;  and  he,  with  no  falter- 
ing step,  keeps  pace  with  his  guide. 

Ye  gods,  whose  empire  is  the  shades  —  spirits  of 
silence.  Chaos  and  Phlegethon,  stretching  wide  in  the 
stillness  of  night,  suffer  me  to  tell  what  has  reached 
my  ears ;  grant  me  your  aid  to  reveal  things  buried 
underground,  deep  and  dark. 

On  they  went,  darkUng  in  solitary  night,  far  into  the 
gloom,  through  Pluto's  void  halls  and  ghostly  realms  — 


BOOK   VI.  269 

like  a  journej^  in  a  wood  under  the  niggard  beams  of  a 
doubtful  moon,  when  Jupiter  has  shrouded  heaven  in 
shadow,  and  black  Night  has  stolen  the  color  from  Na- 
ture's face.  There  before  the  threshold,  in  the  verj^ 
mouth  of  Hell,  Agony  and  the  fiends  of  Remorse  have 
made  their  lair :  there  dwell  wan  Diseases,  and  woful 
Age,  and  Terror,  and  Hunger  that  prompts  to  Sin,  and 
loathly  Want  —  shapes  of  hideous  view  —  and  Death, 
and  Suffering ;  then  comes  Sleep,  Death's  blood- 
brother,  and  the  soul's  guilty  joys,  and  deadly  War 
couched  in  the  gate,  and  the  Furies'  iron  chambers, 
and  frantic  Strife,  with  bloody  fillets  wreathed  in  her 
snaky  hair. 

In  the  midst  there  stands,  with  boughs  and  aged 
arms  outspread,  a  massive  elm,  of  broad  shade,  the 
chosen  seat,  so  Rumor  tells,  of  bodiless  dreams,  which 
cling  close  to  its  ever}'  leaf.  There,  too,  are  a  hundred 
monstrous  shapes  of  wild  beasts  of  divers  kinds. 
Centaurs  stalled  in  the  entrance,  and  two-formed  Scyl- 
las,  and  Briareus,  the  hundred-handed,  and  the  portent 
of  Lerna,  hissing  fearfull}',  and  Chimaera  in  her  pan- 
oply of  flames,  Gorgons,  and  Harpies,  and  the  sem- 
blance of  the  three-bodied  specter.  At  once  jEneas 
grasps  his  sword,  in  the  haste  of  sudden  alarm,  and 
meets  their  advance  with  its  drawn  blade ;  and  did  not 
his  companion  warn  him,  of  her  own  knowledge,  that 
they  are  but  thin  unbodied  spirits  flitting  in  a  hollow 
mask  of  substance,  he  would  be  rushing  among  them, 
and  slashing  shadows  asunder  with  the  steel's  unavail- 
ing blows. 

Hence  runs  the  road  that  leads  to  the  waters  of  Tar- 
tarean Acheron,  whose  gulfy  stream,  churning  mud  in 
its  monstrous  depths,  is  all  aglow,  and  disgorges  into 
Cocytus  the  whole  of  its   sand.     These   waters  are 


270  THE  MNEID. 

guarded  by  a  grisly  ferryman,  frightful  and  foul  — 
Charon;  his  chin  an  uncleared  forest  of  hoary  hair; 
his  eyes  a  mass  of  flame ;  while  his  uncleanly  garb 
hangs  from  his  shoulders,  gathered  into  a  knot.  With 
his  own  hand  he  pushes  on  the  craft  with  a  pole,  and 
trims  the  sails,  and  moves  the  dead  heavily  along  in 
his  boat  of  iron-gray,  himself  already  in  years ;  but  a 
god's  old  age  is  green  and  vigorous.  Towards  him  the 
whole  crowd  was  pouring  to  the  bank :  matrons  and 
warriors,  and  bodies  of  mighty  heroes  discharged  of 
life,  boys  and  un wedded  maidens,  and  youths  laid  on 
the  pile  of  death  in  their  parents'  eyes  —  many  as  are 
the  leaves  that  drop  and  fall  in  the  woods  in  autumn's 
early  cold,  or  many  as  are  the  birds  that  flock  massed 
together  from  the  deep  to  the  land,  when  the  wintry 
year  drives  them  over  sea  to  tenant  a  sunnier  clime. 
There  they  stood,  each  praying  that  he  might  be  the 
first  to  cross,  with  hands  yearningly  outstretched  to- 
wards the  further  shore ;  but  the  grim  boatman  takes 
on  board  now  these,  now  those,  vrhile  others  he  drives 
away,  and  bars  them  from  the  river's  brink,  ^neas, 
cries  as  a  man  perplexed  and  startled  by  the  tumult : 
*  Tell  me,  dread  maiden,  what  means  this  concourse  to 
the  stream  ?  Of  what  are  these  spirits  in  quest  ?  What 
choice  decides  that  these  shall  retire  from  the  shore, 
while  those  are  rowing  through  that  leaden  pool  ? '  To 
him  in  brief  returned  the  aged  priestess :  '  Son  of 
Anchises,  Heaven's  undoubted  offspring,  before  you 
are  Cocytus'  depths  and  the  marsh^^  flood  of  Styx, 
that  power  b}^  whose  name  the  gods  fear  to  swear  in 
vain.  The  whole  multitude  you  see  here  is  helpless 
and  tombless  ;  Charon  is  the  ferryman  ;  those  who  ride 
the  wave  are  the  buried.  He  ma}^  not  ferry  them  from 
the  dreadful  banks  across  that  noisy  current  till  their 


BOOK   VT.  271 

bones  have  found  a  place  of  rest.  A  hundred  jears 
they  wander  hovering  about  these  shores  ;  then  at  last 
they  embark,  and  see  again  the  flood  of  their  longing.' 
Anchises'  son  stood  and  paused,  musing  deeply,  and 
pitying  at  his  heart  a  lot  so  unkind.  Yes,  there  he 
sees,  sadly  wandering  without  death's  last  tribute, 
Leucaspis  and  Orontes,  the  captain  of  Lycia's  fleet: 
both  had  sailed  with  him  from  Troy  over  the  stormy 
water,  and  the  south  wind  whelmed  them  both,  ingulf- 
ing the  vessel  and  its  crew. 

Lo !  he  sees  his  pilot,  Palinurus,  moving  along  — 
Pahnurus,  who  but  now,  while  voyaging  from  Lib3^a, 
his  eyes  bent  on  the  stars,  had  fallen  from  the  stern, 
flung  out  into  the  wide  waste  of  waters.  So  when  he 
had  at  lajt  taken  knowledge  of  his  features,  now 
saddened,  in  the  deep  gloom,  he  thus  accosts  him 
first:  'Who  was  it,  Palinurus,  of  all  the  gods,  that 
tore  you  from  us,  and  whelmed  you  in  the  wide  sea? 
Tell  me  who.  Till  now  I  never  found  him  false ;  but 
in  this  one  response  Apollo  has  proved  a  cheat,  fore- 
telling that  you  would  be  unharmed  on  the  deep,  and 
win  your  way  to  the  Ausonian  frontier,  and  thus  it  is 
that  he  keeps  his  word  ! '  '  Nay,'  returned  he,  '  my 
chief,  Anchises'  son,  Phoebus'  tripod  has  told  you  no 
lie,  nor  did  anj*  god  whelm  me  in  the  sea.  No,  I 
chanced  to  fall,  tearing  away  by  main  force  the  rud- 
der, to  which  I  was  clinging  like  sentry  to  his  post, 
as  I  guided  your  course,  and  dragging  it  with  me  in 
my  headlong  whirl.  Witness  those  cruel  waters,  I 
felt  no  fear  for  my  own  life  like  that  which  seized  me 
for  your  ship,  lest,  disarmed  and  disabled,  shaken 
loose  from  her  ruler's  hand,  she  should  give  way  under 
the  great  sea  that  was  rising  then.  Three  long  nights 
of  storm  the  south  wind  swept  me  over  the  vast  wilder- 


272  THE  jENEID. 

ness  of  convulsed  ocean.  Hardly  at  last,  at  the  fourth 
dawn,  I  looked  out  aloft  upon  Italy  from  the  crest 
of  the  wave.  Stroke  by  stroke  I  was  swimming  to 
shore ;  and  now  I  was  just  la3'ing  hold  on  safety- ,  had 
not  the  savage  natives  come  on  me,  sword  in  hand, 
clogged  as  I  was  with  mj'  dripping  clothes,  and  clutch- 
ing with  talon  fingers  the  steep  mountain-top,  and 
deemed  hlindly  they  had  found  a  prize.  Now  the 
wave  is  m}-  home,  and  the  winds  keep  tossing  me  on 
the  beach.  Oh,  by  heaven's  pleasant  sunshine  and 
bright  sk}^ ;  b}^  3'our  father,  I  adjure  you;  by  the 
promise  growing  up  with  your  lulus,  rescue  me  with 
that  unconquered  arm  from  this  cruel  fate :  be  3'our- 
self,  and  either  spread  earth  upon  me,  for  that  j'ou 
can  surel}'  do,  and  put  back  to  Veha's  h^^en ;  or,  if 
any  wa}'  there  be,  any  that  3-our  goddess  mother  can 
reveal — for  well  I  ween  it  is  not  without  Heaven's  leave 
that  you  purpose  to  stem  these  fearful  tides  and  the 
reluctant  pool  of  Stj^x  —  stretch  3'our  hand  to  3^our 
poor  friend,  and  take  me  with  3'ou  over  the  water, 
that  at  least  I  may  find  in  death  a  place  of  rest  and 
peace.'  So  had  he  spoken,  when  thus  the  priest- 
ess begins:  'What  demon,  Palinurus,  has  set  on  3'ou 
so  monstrous  a  desire?  You,  unburied,  look  on  the 
Stygian  water,  and  the  dread  river  of  the  furies? 
You  set  foot  on  the  bank  unbidden?  Cease  to  dream 
that  Heaven's  destin3'  can  be  swa3'ed  1)3'  pra3'er.  Yet 
hear  and  retain  a  word  which  may  console  3'our  hard 
lot.  For  know  that  the  dwellers  in  that  fatal  border, 
goaded  far  and  wide  through  their  cities  by  prodigies 
from  heaven,  shall  propitiate  your  dust:  the3^  shall 
erect  a  tomb,  and  through  that  tomb  send  down  y out- 
funeral  dues,  and  the  spot  shall  bear  for  ever  the 
name  of  Palinurus.'     These  words  allayed   his  cares, 


BOOK   VI.  273 

and  banished  for  a  while  grief  from  that  sad  bosom : 
his  heart  leaps  to  the  land  that  is  called  by  his  name. 

They  according^  continue  their  journey,  and  approach 
the  river.  Soon  as  the  boatman  saw  them,  at  the  mo- 
ment, from  the  wave  of  Styx,  moving  through  the  stilly 
forest,  and  turning  their  steps  to  the  bank,  he  first 
bespeaks  them  thus,  and  assails  them  unaccosted :  '  You, 
whoever  you  are,  that  are  making  for  these  waters  of 
ours  in  warlike  trim,  speak  your  errand  from  the  spot 
where  you  are,  and  come  no  nearer.  This  is  the  place 
for  the  shadows,  for  Sleep  and  slumbrous  Night.  The 
l3odies  of  the  living  may  not  be  ferried  in  my  Stygian 
barque.  Nay,  it  was  not  to  my  joy  that  I  gave  Alci- 
des  a  passage  over  the  lake,  nor  Theseus  and  Pirithous, 
born  of  gods  though  they  were,  and  of  strength  unsub- 
dued. The  one  laid  a  jailer*s  hand  on  the  warder  of 
Tartarus,  ^en  at  the  foot  of  the  king's  own  throne, 
and  dragged  him  trembling  along :  the  others  essayed 
to  carry  off  the  queen  from  Pluto's  bridal  chamber.* 
To  which  the  Amphrysian  priestess  repUed  in  brief: 
'  Here  there  are  no  stratagems  like  those ;  be  not  dis- 
composed ;  these  weapons  are  not  borne  for  violence ; 
the  monstrous  guardian  of  your  gate  is  free  to  terrify 
the  bloodless  specters  from  his  den  with  his  unending 
bark ;  Proserpine  is  free  to  keep  her  uncle's  home  as 
faithful  wife  should.  This  is  -^neas  of  Troy,  renowned 
for  piety  and  arms  alike  :  it  is  to  see  his  father  that  he 
is  going  down  to  Erebus'  lowest  depth  of  gloom.  If 
thou  art  moved  in  naught  by  the  spectacle  of  piety  so 
signal,  yet  let  this  branch '  —  she  uncovered  the  branch 
which  was  concealed  in  her  robe  —  '  claim  recognition.' 
At  once  the  angry  swell  subsides,  and  the  breast  is 
calm.  No  further  parley.  Gazing  in  wonder  at  the 
sacred  offering  of  the  fated  bough,  last  seen  so  long 
18 


274  THE  jENEID. 

ago,  he  turns  to  them  the  sea-green  *  boat,  and  draws 
near  the  bank.  Then  he  dislodges  other  ghostly  pas- 
sengers who  were  sitting  along  the  benches,  and  clears 
the  gangways,  while  he  takes  into  the  vessel's  hollow 
the  mighty  ^neas.  The  sutures  of  the  boat  cracked 
beneath  the  weight,  as  through  its  rents  it  drew  in  large 
draughts  of  marsh-water.  At  length  priestess  and 
prince  are  safe  across  the  flood,  set  down  amid  feature- 
less mud  and  blue-green  rushes. 

Cerberus,  the  monster,  makes  the  whole  realm  ring 
with  his  three  barking  throats,  as  he  lies  in  giant  length 
fronting  them  in  his  den's  mouth.  The  priestess,  see- 
ing the  snakes  already  bristling  on  his  neck,  throws 
him  a  morsel  steeped  in  the  slumber  of  honey  and  med- 
icated meal.  He,  in  the  frenzy  of  hunger,  opens  his 
triple  jaws  to  catch  it  as  it  comes,  and  stretches  his 
enormous  back  at  length  on  the  ground,  till  his  huge 
bulk  covers  the  den.  -^neas  masters  the  approach 
while  the  warder  sleeps,  and  swiftly  passes  from  the 
bank  of  the  river  without  return. 

At  once  there  breaks  on  his  ear  a  voice  of  mighty 
wailing,  infant  spirits  sobbing  and  crying  on  the  thresh- 
old, babes  that,  portionless  of  the  sweets  of  life,  were 
snatched  from  the  breast  by  the  black  death- day's 
tyrann}^,  and  whelmed  in  untimely  night.  Next  to 
them  are  those  who  were  done  to  death  b}-  false  accu- 
sation. Yet  let  none  think  that  the  lot  of  award  or  the 
judge's  sentence  are  wanting  here.  There  sits  Minos, 
the  president,  urn  in  hand :  he  summons  an  assembly 
of  the  speechless,  and  takes  cognizance  of  earthly  lives 
and  earthly  sins. 

♦  So  the  MS.  reads  as  a  translation  of  Cceruleam  which  in  his 
note  on  this  passage,  Mr.  Conington  explains  as  the  same  as 
ferrugineam  translated  '  iron-gray  *  above.  —  [Ed.] 


BOOK   VI.  275 

Next  to  them  comes  the  dwelling-place  of  the  sons 
of  sorrow,  who,  though  guiltless,  procured  their  own 
death  bj"^  violence,  and,  for  mere  hatred  of  the  sun- 
shine, flung  their  lives  away.  Oh,  how  gladly  would 
they  now,  in  the  air  above,  bear  to  the  end  the  load  of 
poverty  and  the  full  extremity  of  toil !  But  Fate  bars 
the  way  :  the  unlovely  pool  swathes  them  round  in  her 
doleful  waters,  and  Styx,  with  her  ninefold  windings, 
keeps  them  fast, 

Not  far  hence  the  traveler's  eye  sees  stretching  on 
every  side  the  Mourning  Fields :  such  the  name  they 
bear.  Here  dwell  those  whom  cruel  Love's  consuming 
tooth  has  eaten  to  the  heart,  in  the  privacy  of  hidden 
walks  and  an  enshrouding  m3Ttle  wood :  their  tender 
sorrows  quit  them  not  even  in  death.  In  this  region  he 
sees  Phaedra  and  Procris,  and  sad  Eriphyle,  pointing 
to  the  wounds  of  her  ruthless  son,  and  Evadne,  and 
Pasiphae  :  along  with  them  moves  Laodamia,  and  Cae- 
neus,  once  a  man,  now  a  woman,  brought  back  by  the 
turn  of  fate  to  her  former  self.  Among  these  was  Phoe- 
nicia's daughter,  Dido,  fresh  from  her  death-wound, 
wandering  in  that  mighty  wood :  soon  as  the  Trojan 
hero  stood  at  her  side,  and  knew  her,  looming  dimly 
through  the  dusk — as  a  man  sees  or  thinks  he  sees 
through  the  clouds,  when  the  month  is  young,  the 
rising  moon  —  his  tears  broke  forth,  and  he  addressed 
her  tenderly  and  lovingly.  '  Unhapp}^  Dido  !  and  was 
it  then  a  true  messenger  that  reached  me  with  the  tale 
that  3^ou  were  dead :  that  the  sword  had  done  its 
worst?  Was  it,  alas,  to  a  grave  that  I  brought  you? 
By  the  stars  of  heaven  I  swear,  by  the  powers  above, 
by  all  that  is  most  sacred  here  underground,  against 
mj^  will,  fair  queen,  I  quitted  your  coast.  No ;  it  was 
the  command  of  the  gods ;  the  same  stern  force  which 


276  THE  ^NEID. 

compels  me  now  to  pass  through  this  realm  of  shade, 
this  wilderness  of  squalor  and  abj^smal  night ;  it  was 
that  which  drove  me  by  its  uttered  will :  nor  could  I 
have  thought  that  my  departure  would  bring  on  you 
such  violence  of  grief.  Stay  your  step  and  withdraw  not 
from  the  look  I  bend  on  you.  Whom  would  you  shun? 
the  last  word  which  fate  suffers  me  to  address  you  is 
this.'  With  words  like  these,  JEneas  kept  soothing  the 
soul  that  blazed  forth  through  those  scowling  eyes,  and 
moving  himself  to  tears.  She  stood  with  averted  head 
and  eyes  on  the  ground,  her  features  as  little  moved  by 
the*  speech  he  essayed  as  if  she  held  the  station  of  a 
stubborn  flint,  or  a  crag  of  Marpessa.  At  length  she 
flung  herself  away,  and,  unforgiving  still,  fled  into  the 
shadow  of  the  wood,  where  her  former  lord,  S^chaeus, 
answers  her  sorrows  with  his,  and  gives  her  full  meas- 
ure for  her  love.  Yet,  none  the  less,  -^neas,  thrilled 
through  and  through  by  her  cruel  fate,  follows  far  on 
her  track  with  tears,  and  sends  his  pity  along  with  her. 
Thence  he  turns,  to  encounter  the  appointed  way. 
And  now  they  were  already  in  the  furthest  region,  the 
separate  place  tenanted  by  the  great  heroes  of  war. 
Here  there  meets  him  Tj'deus,  here  Parthenopseus, 
illustrious  in  arms,  and  the  specter  of  pale  Adrastus. 
Here  are  chiefs  of  Dardan  line,  wailed  long  and  loudly 
in  the  upper  air  as  they  lay  low  in  fight:  as  he  saw 
them  all  in  long  array,  he  groaned  heavily.  Glaucus 
and  Medon,  and  Thersilochus,  the  three  sons  of  Ante- 
nor,  and  Polyphcetes,  Ceres'  priest,  and  Idseus,  with 
his  hand  still  on  the  car,  still  on  the  armor.  They  sur- 
round him,  right  and  left,  the  ghostl}'  crowd  ;  one  look 
is  not  suflScient :  they  would  fain  linger  on  and  on,  and 
step  side  by  side  with  him,  and  learn  the  cause  of  his 
coming.    But  the  nobles  of  the  Danaans,  and  the  flower 


BOOK   VI,  277 

of  Agamemnon's  bands,  when  they  saw  the  hero  and  his 
armor  gleaming  through  the  shade,  were  smitten  with 
strange  alarm :  some  turn  their  backs  in  flight,  as  erst 
the}^  fled  to  the  ships :  others  raise  a  feeble  war-shout. 
The  cry  they  essay  mocks  their  straining  throats. 

Here  it  is  that  he  sees  Priam's  son,  mangled  all  over, 
Deiphobus,  his  face  cruell}^  marred  —  face  and  both 
hands  —  his  temples  despoiled  of  his  ears,  and  his  nose 
lopped  by  unseemly  carnage.  Scarce,  in  truth,  he  re- 
cognized him,  trembling  as  he  was,  and  trying  to  hide 
the  terrible  vengeance  wreaked  on  him  :  unaccosted,  he 
addresses  him  in  the  tones  he  knew  of  old :  '  Deipho- 
bus, mighty  warrior,  scion  of  Teucer's  illustrious  stock, 
who  has  had  the  ambition  to  avenge  himself  so  cruelly  ? 
who  has  had  his  will  of  you  thus?  For  me.  Rumor 
told  me  on  that  fatal  night  that  you  had  sunk  down, 
tired  with  the  work  of  slaughtering  the  Greeks,  on  a 
heap  of  undistinguished  carnage.  Then  with  my  own 
hand,  I  set  up  an  empty  tomb  on  the  Rhoetean  shore, 
and  thrice  with  a  loud  voice  invoked  your  spirit.  There 
are  j^our  name  and  your  arms  to  keep  the  spot  in  mem- 
ory :  yourself,  dear  friend,  I  could  not  see,  so  as  to 
give  you  repose  in  the  fatherland  I  was  leaving.'  To 
whom  the  son  of  Priam:  '  Dear  friend,  3'ou  have  failed 
in  naught:  all  that  Deiphobus  could  claim  has  been 
paid  by  3^ou  to  him  and  to  his  shade.  No  ;  it  was  my 
own  destiny  and  the  deadly  wickedness  of  the  Spartan 
woman  that  plunged  me  thus  deep  in  ill :  these  tokens 
are  of  her  leaving.  How  we  spent  that  fatal  night  in 
treacherous  joyance  you  know  well :  too  good  cause  is 
there  to  bear  it  in  mind.  When  the  fateful  horse  at  one 
bound  surmounted  the  height  of  Pergamus,  and  brought 
a  mail-clad  infantry  in  its  laden  womb,  she  feigned  a 
solemn  dance,  and  led  round  the  city  Phrygian  dames 


27B  THE  jENEID. 

in  Bacchic  ecstasy:  herself  in  their  midst  raising  a 
mighty  torch  aloft,  and  calling  to  the  Danaans  from 
the  top  of  the  citadel.  That  hour  I  spent  with  care, 
and  overborne  with  sleep,  was  in  the  hold  of  our  ill- 
starred  bridal  chamber,  weighed  down  as  I  lay,  by 
slumber  sweet  and  sound,  the  very  image  of  the  deep 
calm  of  death.  Meantime,  m}'  peerless  helpmate  re- 
moves from  the  house  arms  of  every  sort :  yes,  my 
trusty  sword  she  had  withdrawn  from  my  pillow,  and 
now  she  calls  Menelaus  to  come  in,  and  throws  wide 
the  door,  hoping,  I  doubt  not,  that  the  greatness  of 
the  boon  would  soften  her  lover's  heart,  and'  that  the 
memory  of  her  crime  of  old  could  thus  be  wiped  from 
men's  minds.  Why  make  the  story  long  ?  They  burst 
into  the  chamber,  along  with  them  that  child  of  .^olus, 
then  as  ever  the  counselor  of  evil.  Recompense,  j'e 
gods,  the  Greeks  in  kind,  if  these  lips,  that  ask  for 
retribution,  are  pure  and  loyal.  But  3'ou  ;  what  chance 
has  brought  you  here  in  your  life-time,  let  me  ask  in 
turn  ?  Are  you  come  under  the  spell  of  ocean-wander- 
ing, or  bj'  the  command  of  heaven  ?  or  what  tyranny 
of  fortune  constrains  3^ou  to  visit  these  sad,  sunless 
dweUings,  the  abode  of  confusion  ? ' 

In  this  interchange  of  talk,  the  Dawn-goddess  in  her 
flushing  car,  careering  through  the  sky,  had  well  passed 
the  summit  of  the  arch ;  and  perchance  they  had  spent 
all  their  allotted  time  in  converse  like  this,  had  not  the 
Sibyl  vi^arned  her  companion  with  brief  address : 
^  Night  is  hastening,  ^neas  ;  and  we,  as  we  weep,  are 
making  hours  pass.  This  is  the  spot  where  the  road 
parts  in  twain.  The  right,  which  goes  under  the  palace- 
wall  of  mighty  Dis  —  there  lies  our  way  to  Elysium  ; 
the  left  puts  in  motion  the  tortures  of  the  wicked,  and 
sends  them  to  Tartarus,  the  home  of  crime.'     Deipho- 


BOOK   VI.  279 

bus  replied  :  '  Frown  not,  dread  priestess,  I  depart,  to 
make  the  ghostl}^  number  complete,  and  plunge  again 
in  darkness.  Go  on  j'our  way,  our  nation's  glory,  go ; 
may  your  experience  of  fate  be  more  blest.'  He  said, 
and,  while  yet  speaking,  turned  aw  a}'. 

Suddenly,  -^neas  looks  back,  and,  under  a  rock  on 
the  left,  sees  a  broad  stronghold,  girt  by  a  triple  wall ; 
a  fierce  stream  surrounds  it  with  surges  of  fire,  Tarta- 
rean Phlegethon,  and  tosses  craggy  fragments  in 
thunder.  Full  in  front  is  a  vast  gate,  its  pillars  of 
solid  adamant.  No  force  of  man,  not  even  the  em- 
battled powers  of  heavien,  could  break  it  down.  Ris- 
ing in  air  is  a  turret  of  iron,  and  Tisiphone,  with  a 
gory  robe  girt  round  her,  sits  at  the  vestibule  with 
sleepless  vigilance  night  and  day.  Hence  sounds  of 
wailing  meet  the  ear,  and  the  crack  of  remorseless 
whips ;  the  clank  of  steel  follows,  and  the  trailing  of 
the  chain,  ^neas  stood  still,  riveted  by  the  terror  of 
the  noise.  '  What  shapes  is  guilt  wearing  now  ?  tell 
me,  dread  maiden.  What  are  the  torments  that  lie  on 
it  so  hard  ?  what  mean  these  loud  upsoaring  shrieks  ?  * 
The  priestess  returned  ;  '  Noble  leader  of  the  Teucrians, 
no  innocent  foot  may  tread  that  guilty  threshold ;  but 
the  day  when  Hecate  set  me  over  the  groves  of  Avernus, 
she  taught  me  from  her  own  lips  the  punishments  of 
Heaven,  and  led  me  through  from  end  to  end.  Here 
rules  Gnosian  Rhadamanthus,  a  reign  of  iron  —  aven- 
ger, at  once,  and  judge  of  cowering  guilt,  he  compels 
a  confession  of  what  crimes  soever  men  in  upper  air, 
blindly  rejoicing  in  the  cheat,  have  kept  secret  till  the 
hour  of  death,  to  be  expiated  then.  In  a  moment, 
Tisiphone  the  torturer,  with  uplifted  scourge,  lashes 
from  side  to  side  the  spurned  and  guilty  soul:  and 
brandishing  in  her  left  grim  knots  of  serpents,  sum- 


280  THE  jENEID, 

mons  her  uni^itying  sisterhood.  Then  at  last,  grating 
on  their  dread-sounding  hinge,  the  awfnl  gates  are 
opened.  See  j-ou  what  manner  of  sentry  is  seated  at 
the  entrance  ?  what  a  presence  is  guarding  the  thresh- 
old ?  Know  that  a  Hydra  fiercer  yet  with  fifty  mon- 
strous throats,  each  a  yawning  pit,  holds  her  seat 
within.  Then  there  is  the  ab3'ss  of  Tartarus  in  sheer 
descent,  extending  under  the  shades,  twice  as  far  as 
man's  skyward  gaze  from  earth  to  the  heaven  of  Olym- 
pus. Here  are  earth's  anpient  progeny,  the  Titan 
brood,  hurled  down  by  the  thunderbolt  to  wallow  in 
the  depths  of  the  gulf.  Here  too  saw  I  the  twin  sons 
of  Aloeus,  frames  of  giant  bulk,  who  essayed  by  force 
of  hand  to  pluck  down  the  mighty  heavens,  and  dis- 
lodge Jove  from  his  realm  in  the  sky.  I  saw  too  Sal- 
moneus,  smitten  with  cruel  vengeance,  while  mimicking 
the  fires  of  Jove  and  the  rumblings  of  Olj^mpus. 
Borne  in  a  four-horse  car,  a  flaring  torch  in  hand,  he 
was  making  his  triumphal  progress  through  the  tribes 
of  Greece,  and  the  midst  of  Elis'  city,  and  bidding 
men  accord  him  a  god's  homage.  Madman  !  to  coun- 
terfeit the  storm-cloud  and  the  unrivaled  thunderbolt 
with  the  rattle  of  brass  and  the  beat  of  horses'  horny 
hoofs.  But  the  almighty  sire  from  the  depth  of  his 
cloudy  dwelling,  hurled  his  weapon  —  no  futile  fire- 
brand his,  no  pinewood's  smoky  glare  —  and  dashed 
him  headlong  down  with  that  tremendous  blast.  Tityos, 
too,  the  foster-child  of  Earth's  common  breast,  it  was 
mine  to  see :  his  body  lies  extended  over  nine  whole 
acres,  and  there  is  a  monstrous  vulture  with  hooked 
beak  shearing  away  his  imperishable  liver,  and  reaping 
a  harvest  of  suff'ering  from  his  vitals,  as  it  digs  deep 
for  its  meal,  and  burrows  in  the  cavern  of  his  breast, 
nor  gives  the  new-growing  filaments  rest  or  respite. 


BOOK   VI.  281 

What  need  to  tell  of  the  Lapithse,  of  Ixion  and  Piri- 
thoiis  —  men  who  live  under  a  black  crag,  ever  falling, 
and  just  in  act  to  drop  ?  The  lofty  couch  is  spread  for 
the  banquet,  and  the  pillar  of  gold  gleams  underneath ; 
the  feast  is  before  them,  served  in  kingly  luxury ;  but 
the  eldest  of  the  Furies  is  couched  at  their  side :  she 
will  not  let  them  stretch  a  hand  to  the  board  :  she  starts 
up  with  torch  uplifted  and  thunder  in  her  tones.  Here 
are  they  who  lived  in  hatred  with  their  brethren  while 
life  yet  was  ;  who  smote  a  parent  or  wove  for  a  client 
the  web  of  fraud  ;  who  gained  a  treasure  and  brooded 
over  it  alone,  and  never  shared  it  with  their  kin  — 
a  mighty  number  these  —  adulterers,  who  were  slain 
for  their  crime  ;  citizens  who  followed  the  standard  of 
treason ;  slaves  who  shrunk  not  from  breaking  their 
troth  to  their  lords  :  all  in  prison  awaiting  their  doom. 
Ask  not  wliat  doom  is  theirs,  what  phase,  what  fate  has 
whelmed  them  so  deep.  Others  roll  the  huge  stone  up 
the  hill,  or  hang  dispread  from  the  spokes  of  the  wheel : 
there  sits,  as  he  will  sit  for  evermore,  unhappy  The- 
seus:  and  Phlegyas,  from  the  depth  of  his  agony, 
keeps  warning  all,  and  proclaiming  with  a  voice  of 
terror  through  the  shades :  ' '  Learn  hereby  to  be 
righteous,  and  not  to  scorn  the  gods."  This  sold  his 
country  for  gold,  and^  saddled  her  with  a  tyrant ;  for 
gain  he  made  and  unmade  laws :  this  assailed  his 
daughter's  bed,  and  essayed  a  forbidden  union:  all 
dared  some  monstrous  crime,  and  enjoyed  their  daring. 
No ;  had  I  even  a  hundred  tongues,  and  a  hundred 
mouths,  and  lungs  of  iron,  not  then  could  I  embrace 
all  the  types  of  crime,  or  rehearse  the  whole  muster- 
roll  of  vengeance.' 

So  spoke  Apollo's  aged  priestess ;  and  then  resum- 
ing :  'But  come,'  she  cries,  '  speed  on  your  way,  and 


282  THE  ^NEID. 

fulfil  the  duty  you  have  essayed  :  quicken  we  our  pace. 
I  see  the  walls  which  the  Cyclopian  forge  raised  in  air, 
and  the  arched  gates  confronting  us,  where  sacred  rule 
bids  us  set  down  our  offering.'  As  she  spoke,  they  step 
side  by  side  through  the  dusky  ways,  dispatch  the  in- 
terval of  distance,  and  draw  near  the  gate.  JEneas 
masters  the  approach,  sprinkles  his  body  with  pure 
spring  water,  and  fixes  the  branch  on  the  portal's 
front. 

And  now  these  things  done  at  length,  and  the  oflfer- 
ing  to  the  goddess  accompUshed,  they  have  reached  the 
regions  of  bliss,  green  pleasaunces  of  happy  groves,  and 
the  abodes  of  the  blest.  Here  ether  clothes  the  plains 
with  an  ampler  plenitude  and  a  dazzling  luster  ;  and  the 
eye  beholds  a  sun  and  stars  of  its  own.  There  are  some, 
plying  their  limbs  on  the  grass}^  wrestling-ground,  con- 
flicting in  sport,  and  grappling  each  other  on  the  3^ellow 
sand :  some  are  beating  their  feet  in  the  dance,  and 
chanting  songs.  There,  too,  is  the  Thracian  priest  in 
his  flowing  robe,  singing  the  seven  notes  in  unison  with 
the  dancers'  measure,  and  striking  them  now  with  his 
fingers,  now  with  the  quill  of  ivory.  Here  are  the  old 
race  of  Teucer,  a  goodly  family,  heroes  of  lofty  soul,  born 
in  earth's  better  da3's,  llus  and  Assaracus,  and  Dar- 
danus,  founder  of  Troj'.  From  afar  he  gazes  wonder- 
ingly  on  their  warrior  arms  and  their  ghostly  chariots. 
Their  spears  stand  rooted  in  the  ground,  and  their  un- 
yoked steeds  graze  dispersedl}'  over  the  meadow.  All 
the  delight  they  took  when  alive  in  chariots  and  armor, 
all  their  pride  in  grooming  and  feeding  their  horses, 
goes  with  them  underground,  and  animates  them  there! 
See,  too,  his  eye  rests  on  others  regaling  on  either  hand 
upon  the  grass,  and  singing  in  chorus  a  joyous  psean, 
all  in  a  fragrant  grove  of  bay,  the  source  whence  well- 


BOOK  VI.  283 

ing  forth  into  the  upper  world,  Eridanus  flows  in  broad 
current  between  his  wooded  banks.  Here  is  a  noble 
company  who  braved  wounds  in  fight  for  fatherland  ;  all 
the  priests  who  kept  their  purity  while  life  was ;  all  the 
poets  whose  hearts  were  clean,  and  their  songs  worthy 
Phcebus'  ear ;  all  who  by  cunning  inventions  gave  a 
grace  to  life,  and  whose  worthy  deeds  made  their  fellows 
think  of  them  with  love :  each  has  his  brow  cinctured 
with  a  snow-white  fillet.  Looking  on  the  multitude  as 
it  streamed  around,  the  Sibyl  bespoke  them  thus  — 
Musaeus  before  all ;  for  he  stands  the  center  of  that 
vast  crowd,  which  looks  up  to  him,  as  with  rising 
shoulders  he  towers  above  them :  '  Tell  us,  happy 
spirits,  and  you,  best  of  bards,  which  is  Anchises* 
haunt  ?  which  his  home  ?  for  it  is  to  see  him  that  we  have 
come  hither,  and  won  our  way  over  the  mighty  river 
of  Erebus.'  Instant  the  hero  replied  in  brief:  'Here 
there  are  no  fixed  abodes  :  our  dwellings  are  in  shadowy 
groves :  our  settlements  on  the  velvet  slope  of  banks 
and  meadows  fresh  with  running  streams.  But  come, 
if  you  will,  climb  this  hill  with  me,  and  I  will  set  3'our 
feet  at  once  on  a  road  that  will  lead  you.'  So  saying, 
he  moves  on  before,  and  from  the  top  of  the  ridge  points 
to  broad  fields  of  light,  while  they  descend  from  the 
summit. 

But  father  Anchises,  down  in  the  depth  of  the  green 
dell,  was  surveying  with  fond  observance  the  spirits 
now  confined  there,  but  hereafter  to  pass  into  the  hght 
of  day,  and  scanning,  as  chance  would  have  it,  the 
whole  multitude  of  his  people,  even  his  loved  posterity, 
their  destinies,  their  warrior  deeds,  their  ways  and  their 
works.  Soon  as  he  saw  JEneas  advancing  through  the 
grass  to  meet  him,  he  stretched  out  both  his  hands  with 
eager  movement,  tears  gushed  over  his  cheeks,  and 


284  THE  yENEID, 

words  escaped  his  lips:  'And  are  you  come  at  last? 
has  love  fulfilled  a  father's  hopes  and  surmounted  the 
perils  of  the  way?  is  it  mine  to  look  on  your  face,  my 
son,  and  listen  and  reply  as  we  talked  of  old  ?  Yes  ;  I 
was  even  thinking  so  in  my  own  mind.  I  was  reckon- 
ing that  it  would  be,  counting  over  the  days.  Nor  has 
my  longing  played  me  false.  Oh,  the  lands  and  the 
mighty  seas  from  which  you  have  come  to  m^^  presence  ! 
the  dangers,  m}'  son,  that  have  tossed  and  smitten  you  ! 
Oh,  how  I  have  feared  lest  you  should  come  to  harm  in 
that  realm  of  Libya  ! '  The  son  replied  :  '  Your  shade 
it  was,  father,  3'our  melancholy  shade,  that,  coming  to 
me  oft  and  oft,  constrained  me  to  knock  at  these  doors : 
here,  in  the  Tjrrhene  deep  my  ships  are  riding  at  an- 
chor. Let  us  grasp  hand  in  hand :  let  us,  my  father ! 
Oh,  withdraw  not  from  my  embrace ! '  As  he  spoke, 
the  streaming  tears  rolled  down  his  face.  Thrice,  as 
he  stood,  he  essayed  to  fling  his  arms  round  that  dear 
neck  :  thrice  the  phantom  escaped  the  hands  that  caught 
at  it  in  vain,  impalpable,  as  the  wind,  fleeting  as  the 
wings  of  sleep. 

Meanwhile  JEneas  sees  in  the  retired  vale  a  secluded 
grove  with  brakes  and  rustling  woods,  and  the  river  of 
Lethe,  which  floats  along  by  those  abodes  of  peace. 
Round  it  were  fl^'ing  races  and  tribes  untold  :  even  as 
in  the  meadows  when  bees  in  calm  summer-tide  settle 
on  flower  after  flower,  and  stream  over  the  milk-white 
lilies,  the  humming  fills  the  plain.  Startled  at  the  sud- 
den sight,  ^neas  wonderingl}'  inquires  what  it  means, 
what  are  those  waters  in  the  distance,  or  who  the  men 
that  are  thronging  the  banks  in  crowds  so  vast.  To 
him  his  father  Anchises :  '  They  are  spirits  to  whom 
Destiny  has  promised  new  bodies,  there  at  the  side  of 
Lethe's  water,  drinking  the  wave  of  carelessness,  and 


BOOK  VL  285 

the  long  draught  of  oblivion.  In  truth  I  have  long 
wished  to  tell  you  of  them  and  show  them  before  you, 
to  recount  the  long  line  of  my  kindred,  that  you  may 
rejoice  with  me  now  that  Italy  is  found.'  '  Oh,  my 
father !  and  must  we  think  that  there  are  souls  that  fly 
hence  aloft  into  the  upper  air,  and  thus  return  to  the 
sluggish  fellowship  of  the  body  ?  can  their  longing  for 
light  be  so  mad  as  this  ? '  'I  will  tell  you,  my  son,  nor 
hold  you  longer  in  doubt.'  So  replies  Anchises,  and 
unfolds  the  story  in  order. 

'  Know,  first,  that  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  watery 
plains,  and  the  Moon's  lucid  ball,  and  Titan's  starry 
fires  are  kept  alive  by  a  spirit  within :  a  mind  pervad- 
ing each  limb  stirs  the  whole  frame  and  mingles  with 
the  might}^  mass.  Hence  spring  the  races  of  men  and 
beasts,  and  living  things  with  wings,  and  the  strange 
forms  that  Ocean  carries  beneath  his  marble  surface. 
These  particles  have  a  fierj^  glow,  a  heavenly  nature, 
struggling  against  the  clogs  of  corrupting  flesh,  the 
dullness  of  limbs  of  clay  and  bodies  ready  to  die. 
Hence  come  their  fears  and  lusts,  their  joys  and  griefs : 
nor  can  they  discern  the  heavenly  light,  prisoned  as  they 
are  in  night  and  blind  dungeon  walls.  Nay,  when  life's 
last  ray  has  faded  from  them,  not  even  then,  poor 
wretches,  are  they  wholly  freed  from  ill,  freed  from  every 
plague  of  the  flesh :  those  many  taints  must  needs  be 
ingrained  strangely  in  the  being,  so  long  as  they  have 
grown  with  it.  So  they  are  schooled  with  punishment, 
and  pay  in  suffering  for  ancient  ill :  some  are  hung  up 
and  dispread  to  the  piercing  winds :  others  have  the 
stain  of  wickedness  washed  out  under  the  whelming 
gulf,  or  burnt  out  with  fire:  each  is  chastised  in  his 
own  spirit :  then  we  are  sped  through  the  breadth  of 
Elysium,  while  some  few  remain  to  inhabit  these  happy 


286  THE  JENEID. 

plains,  till  the  lapse  of  ages,  when  time's  ^jycle  is 
complete!  has  cleansed  the  ingrained  blot  and  left  a 
pure  residue  of  heavenly  intelligence,  the  flame  of 
essential  ether.  All  of  these,  when  they  have  rounded 
the  circle  of  a  thousand  years,  Heaven  summons  to 
the  stream  of  Lethe,  a  mighty  concourse,  to  the  end 
that  with  memory  effaced  they  may  return  to  the  vault 
of  the  sky,  and  learn  to  wish  for  a  new  union  with  the 
body.' 

Anchises  ended :  he  draws  his  son  and  the  Sibyl  with 
him  into  the  midst  of  the  assemblage,  the  heart  of  that- 
buzzing  crowd,  and  mounts  an  eminence,  whence  he 
might  see  face  to  face  the  whole  of  the  long  procession, 
and  learn  each  comer's  looks. 

*  Now  then,  for  the  glories  of  the  Dardan  race  from 
this  time  onward,  the  posterity  reserved  for  3"0u  in  the 
Italian  line,  noble  spirits,  the  ordained  heirs  of  our 
proud  name :  of  these  I  will  tell  you,  and  inform  you 
of  your  destiny. 

'  He  whom  you  see  there,  the  youth  leaning  on  the 
pointless  spear,  his  lot  is  to  fill  the  next  place  in  light : 
he  will  be  first  to  rise  to  upper  day,  born  from  the 
admixture  of  Italian  blood,  Silvius,  that  great  Alban 
name,  your  latest  offspring,  whom  in  your  old  age  at 
set  of  life  your  spouse  Lavinia  will  bear  you  in  the 
woods,  himself  a  king  and  the  father  of  kings  to  be : 
from  him  it  is  that  our  race  shall  rule  over  Alba  the 
Long.  Next  comes  mighty  Procas,  the  pride  of  the 
people  of  Troy,  and  Capys,  and  Numitor,  and  a 
second  bearer  of  your  name,  Silvius  ^neas,  himself 
renowned  alike  for  piety  and  for  valor,  if  ever  he 
should  come  to  the  throne  of  Alba.  What  glorious 
youths !  look  what  strength  they  carry  in  their  port, 
while  their  brows  are  shaded  by  the  civic  oak !     These 


BOOK  VI.  287 

shall  uprear  for  you,  high  on  the  mountains,  Noraen- 
tum,  and  Gabii,  and  Fidense's  town,  and  the  towers 
of  Collatia,  Pometii  and  Inuus'  camp,  and  Bola,  and 
Cora  ;  names  which  shall  one  day  be  named  :  now  they 
are  mere  nameless  lands.  Romulus,  too,  the  child  of 
Mars,  shall  come  along  with  his  grandsire.  Romulus, 
whom  a  mother,  bearing  Ilium's  name,  shall  produce 
from  the  blood  of  Assaracus.  See  you  the  two  plumes 
standing  on  his  crest,  how  his  sire  marks  him  even 
now  for  the  upper  world  by  his  own  token  of  honor? 
Yes,  my  son,  it  is  by  his  auspices  that  our  glorious 
Rome  shall  extend  her  empire  to  earth's  end,  her  am- 
bition to  the  skies,  and  embrace  seven  hills  with  the 
wall  of  a  single  city,  blest  parent  of  a  warrior  brood : 
even  as  the  mighty  Berecyntian  mother  rides  tower- 
crowned  through  the  towns  of  Phrygia,  proud  of  the 
gods  that  have  sprung  from  her,  a  hundred  grand- 
children at  her  knee,  all  dwellers  in  heaven,  all  lords 
of  the  loft}^  sky.  Hither  now  turn  your  two  rays  of 
vision :  look  at  this  family,  at  Romans  of  your  own. 
Here  is  Caesar;  here  the  whole  progeny  of  lulus,  as 
it  will  pass  one  day  under  heaven's  mighty  cope. 
This,  this  is  he,  the  man  promised  to  you  so  often, 
Augustus  Caesar,  true  child  of  a  god,  who  shall  estab- 
lish again  for  Latium  a  golden  age  in  that  very  region 
where  Saturn  once  reigned,  while  he  stretches  his  sway 
alike  beyond  Garamantian  and  Indian.  See,  the  land 
is  lying  outside  the  stars,  outside  the  sun's  yearl}^  path, 
where  heaven-carrier  Atlas  turns  round  on  his  shoul- 
der the  pole,  studded  with  burning  constellations.  In 
view  of  his  approach,  a  shiver  runs  alread}'  by  oracular 
warning  through  Caspian  realms  and  Maeotian  land, 
and  there  is  stir  and  confusion  at  the  mouths  of  seven- 
fold Nile.     Nay,  even  Alcides  traversed  no  such  length 


288  THE  ^NEID. 

of  earth,  though  he  stalked  the  brazen-footed  deer, 
or  tamed  Erjmanthus'  savage  wilds,  and  appalled 
Lerna  with  his  arrows:  no,  nor  he  who  guides  his 
triumphal  car  with  reins  of  ivy-leaf,  Bacchus,  driving 
his  tigers  down  from  Nysa's  lofty  top.  And  do  we 
still  hesitate  to  let  prowess  give  scope  to  power,  or 
does  fear  prevent  our  setting  foot  on  Ausonian  soil? 
But  who  is  he  in  the  distance,  conspicuous  with  a 
wreath  of  olive,  with  sacred  vessels  in  his  hand  ?  Ah ! 
I  know  the  hoary  hair  and  beard  of  the  king  of  Rome, 
who  shall  give  the  infant  city  the  support  of  law,  sent 
from  his  homely  Cures  and  a  land  of  poverty  into 
a  mighty  empire.  Next  shall  come  one  doomed  to 
break  his  country's  peace,  and  stir  up  with  the  war- 
cry  of  his  name,  Tullus,  warriors  rusting  in  ease  and 
squadrons  that  have  forgotten  their  triumphs.  Ancus 
follows,  a  greater  boaster,  even  now  too  ready  to 
catch  the  breath  of  a  popular  cheer.  Would  you 
look  too  at  the  kings  of  Tarquin's  house,  at  the 
haughty  spirit  of  Brutus  the  avenger,  and  the  fasces 
retrieved?  He  shall  be  the  first  to  take  the  consul's 
power  and  the  axes  of  doom :  the  father  will  bring 
his  rebel  sons  to  death,  all  for  fair  freedom's  sake. 
Unhappy  man !  let  after  ages  speak  of  that  deed  as 
they  will,  strong  over  all  will  be  patriot  passion  and 
unmeasured  thirst  of  praise.  Look,  there  are  the 
Drusi  and  the  Decii,  and  Torquatus  with  his  unpity- 
ing  ax,  and  Camillus  the  restorer  of  the  standards. 
But  those  whom  you  see  there,  dressed  alike  in  gleam- 
ing armor  —  spirits  at  harmony  now  and  so  long  as 
they  are  confined  in  darkness  —  alas  !  how  vast  a  war 
will  they  wage,  each  with  each,  if  they  shall  attain 
the  hght  of  daj^,  what  arraying  of  hosts,  what  carnage 
will  there  be !     Father-in-law  and  son-in-law,  the  one 


BOOK  VI.  289 

coming  down  from  Alpine  ramparts  and  the  stronghold 
of  Monoecus  :  the  other  drawn  up  against  him  with  the 
forces  of  the  east.  Do  not,  do  not,  my  children,  make 
wars  like  these  familiar  to  your  spirits  r'turn  not  your 
country's  valor  against  your  country's  vitals  :  and  you, 
restrain  yourself  the  first :  3'ou,  whose  lineage  is  from 
heaven,  drop  the  steel  from  your  grasp,  heir  of  An- 
chises'  blood.  See  here,  a  conqueror  who  shall  drive 
to  the  lofty  Capitol  the  car  of  triumph  over  Corinth, 
glorious  from  Achaean  slaughter:  here  one  who  shall 
lay  Argos  in  dust,  and  Agamemnon's  own  Mycenae, 
ay,  and  the  heir  of  ^acus,  with  Achilles'  martial 
blood  in  his  veins :  a  Roman's  vengeance  for  his  Tro- 
jan grandsires,  and  for  Pallas'  insulted  fame.  What 
tongue  would  leave  you  unpraised,  great  Cato,  or 
Cossus,  3'Ou?  or  the  race  of  the  Gracchi,  or  those 
twin  thunderbolts  of  war,  the  Scipios,  Libya's  ruin, 
Or  Fabricius,  princely  in  his  poverty,  or  you,  Serra- 
nus,  sowing  your  own  ploughed  fields?  When,  ye 
Fabii,  will  panting  praise  overtake  you?  You  are 
in  truth  our  greatest,  the  single  savior  of  our  state 
by  delay.  Others,  I  doubt  not,  will  mold  the  breath- 
ing brass  to  more  flesh-like  softness,  and  spread  over 
marble  the  look  of  hfe.  Others  will  plead  better  at 
the  bar,  will  trace  with  the  rod  the  courses  of  heaven, 
and  foretell  the  risings  of  the  stars.  Yours,  Roman, 
be  the  lesson  to  govern  the  nations  as  their  lord ;  this 
is  your  destined  culture,  to  impose  the  settled  rule  of 
peace,  to  spare  the  humbled,  and  to  crush  the  proud.* 

Father  Anchises  paused ;  and,  as  they  wondered, 
went  on  to  say :  '  See  how  Marcellus  advances  in  the 
glory  of  the  general's  spoils,  towering  with  conqueror's 
majesty  over  all  the  warriors  near!  When  the  state 
of  Rome  reels  under  the  invader's  shock,  he  shall  stay 
19 


290  THE  yENEID. 

it ;  his  horse's  hoofs  shall  trample  the  Carthaginian  and 
the  revolted  Gaul ;  and  he  shall  dedicate  the  third  suit 
of  armor  to  Quirinus  the  sire.'  Hereupon  ^neas,  for 
he  saw  walking  at  Marcellus'  side  a  youth  of  goodly 
presence  and  in  gleaming  armor,  but  with  little  joy  on 
his  brow  and  downcast  eyes :  '  Who,  my  father,  is  he 
that  thus  attends  the  warrior's  march  ?  his  son,  or  one 
of  the  glorious  line  of  his  posterity?  What  a  hum 
runs  through  the  attendant  train !  how  lofty  his  own 
mien  !  but  the  shadow  of  gloomy  night  hovers  sadden- 
ing round  his  head.*  Father  Anchises  began,  tears 
gushing  forth  the  while :  '  Alas,  my  son !  ask  not  of 
the  heav}^  grief  that  those  of  your  blood  must  bear. 
Of  him  the  fates  shall  give  but  a  glimpse  to  earth,  nor 
suffer  him  to  continue  longer.  Yes,  powers  of  the  sky  ! 
Rome's  race  would  have  been  in  your  eyes  too  strong, 
had  a  boon  like  this  been  its  own  forever.  What 
groanings  of  the  brave  shall  be  wafted  from  Mars' 
broad  field  to  Mars'  mighty  town !  What  a  funeral, 
father  Tiber,  shall  thine  e3'es  behold,  as  thou  flowest 
past  that  new-built  sepulcher !  No  child  of  the  stock 
of  Ilion  shall  raise  his  Latian  ancestors  to  such  heights 
of  hope :  never  while  time  lasts  shall  the  land  of  Romu- 
lus take  such  pride  in  any  that  she  has  reared.  Woe 
for  the  piety,  for  the  ancient  faith,  for  the  arm  uncon- 
quered  in  battle  !  Never  would  foeman  have  met  that 
armed  presence  unscathed,  marched  he  on  foot  into  the 
field  or  tore  with  bloody  spur  the  flank  of  his  foaming 
steed.  Child  of  a  nation's  sorrow  !  were  there  hope  of 
thy  breaking  the  tyranny  of  fate,  thou  shalt  be  Marcel- 
lus. Bring  me  handfuls  of  lilies,  that  I  may  strew  the 
grave  with  their  dazzling  hues,  and  crown,  if  onl}'  with 
these  gifts,  my  young  descendant's  shade,  and  perform 
the  vain  service  of  sorrow.'    Thus  they  wander  here  and 


BOOK  VIL  291 

ttere  through  the  whole  expanse  in  the  broad  fields  of 
shadow  and  take  note  of  all.  Soon  as  Anchises  had 
taken  his  son  from  end  to  end,  and  fired  his  mind  with 
the  prospect  of  that  glorious  history,  he  then  tells  the 
warrior  of  the  battles  that  he  must  fight  at  once,  and 
informs  him  of  the  Laurentian  tribes  and  Latinus'  town, 
and  how  to  shun  or  stand  the  shock  of  every  peril. 

There  are  two  gates  of  Sleep  :  the  one,  as  story  tells, 
of  horn,  supplying  a  ready  exit  for  true  spirits :  the 
other  gleaming  with  the  polish  of  dazzling  ivory,  but 
through  it  the  powers  below  send  false  dreams  to  the 
world  above.  Thither  Anchises,  talking  thus,  conducts 
his  son  and  the  Sib3'l,  and  dismisses  them  by  the  gate 
of  ivory.  JEneas  traces  his  way  to  the  fleet  and  returns 
to  his  comrades  ;  then  sails  along  the  shore  for  Caieta's 
haven.  The  anchor  is  cast  from  the  prow :  the  keels 
are  ranged  on  the  beach. 


BOOK  vn. 

And  thou,  too,  in  thy  death,  Caieta,  nurse  of  JEneas, 
hast  left  to  our  coast  the  heritage  of  an  ever-living 
fame  ;  still  in  this  later  day  thy  glory  hovers  over  thy 
resting-place,  and  a  name  on  Hesperia's  mighty  sea- 
board is  thy  monument,  if  that  be  renown.  So  when 
good  ^neas  had  paid  the  last  dues  and  raised  a  funeral 
mound,  and  had  waited  for  the  calming  of  the  deep,  he 
spreads  sail  and  leaves  the  harbor.  Nightward  the 
breezes  blow,  nor  does  the  fair  Moon  scorn  to  jshow  the 
way :  her  rippling  light  makes  the  sea  shine  again. 
The  next  land  they  skirt  is  the  coast  of  Circe's  realm, 


292  THE  jENEID. 

where  in  queenly  state  the  daughter  of  the  Sun  thrills 
her  forest  fastness  with  never-ending  song,  and  in  her 
haughty  mansion  burns  fragrant  cedar  to  give  light  by 
night,  as  she  draws  her  shrill  comb  over  the  delicate 
warp.  From  the  shore  they  heard  the  growling  noise 
of  Hons  in  wrath,  disdaining  their  bonds  and  roaring  in 
midnight  hour,  bristly  boars  and  caged  bears  venting 
their  rage,  and  shapes  of  huge  wolves  fiercely  howling : 
things  which  Circe,  fell  goddess,  had  transformed  by 
her  magic  drugs  from  the  mien  of  man  to  a  beast's 
visage  and  a  beast's  hide.  So,  lest  the  pious  race  of 
Troy  should  suffer  such  monstrous  change,  were  they 
to  seek  harbor  there  or  approach  the  perilous  shore, 
Neptune  filled  their  sails  with  favoring  breezes,  sped 
their  flight  along,  and  wafted  them  past  the  seething 
waters. 

The  sea  was  just  reddening  in  the  dawn,  and  Aurora 
was  shining  down  from  heaven's  height  in  saffron  robe 
and  rosy  car,  when  all  at  once  the  winds  were  laid,  and 
every  breath  sank  in  sudden  sleep,  and  the  oars  pull 
slowl}^  against  the  smooth  unmoving  wave.  In  the 
same  moment  ^neas,  looking  out  from  the  sea,  beholds 
a  mighty  forest.  Among  the  trees  Tiber,  that  beauteous 
river,  with  his  gulfy  rapids  and  the  burden  of  his  3'el- 
low  sand,  breaks  into  the  main.  Around  and  above, 
birds  of  all  plumes,  the  constant  tenants  of  bank  and 
stream,  were  lulling  the  air  with  their  notes  and  flying 
among  the  woods.  He  bids  his  comrades  turn  aside 
and  set  their  prows  landward,  and  enters  with  joy  the 
river's  shadowed  bed. 

Now  be  with  me  Erato,  and  I  will  unfold  who  were 
the  kings,  what  the  stage  of  circumstance,  what  the 
condition  of  ancient  Latium,  when  the  stranger  host 
first  landed  on  Ausonian  shores,  and  will  recall  how  the 


BOOK  VIL  293 

first  blood  was  drawn.  Thou,  goddess,  thou  prompt 
thy  poet's  memory.  Mine  is  a  tale  of  grisly  war,  of 
battle  array,  and  princes  in  their  fury  rushing  on  car- 
nage —  of  Tyrrhenian  ranks,  and  all  Hesperia  mustered 
in  arms.  Grander  is  the  pile  of  events  that  rises  on 
m}'  view,  grander  the  task  I  essay.  It  was  the  time 
when  king  Latinus,  now  stricken  in  age,  was  ruling 
country  and  city  in  the  calm  of  years  of  peace.  He,  as 
story  tells  us,  was  the  son  of  Faunus  and  a  Laurentine 
nymph,  Marica.  Faunus'  father  was  Picus,  who  owes 
his  birth  to  thee,  great  Saturn  :  thou  art  the  first  found- 
er of  the  line.  No  son,  no  male  progeny,  so  Heaven 
willed,  had  Latinus  now ;  just  as  it  was  budding  into 
youth,  the  branch  was  cut  off.  The  sole  maintainer 
of  the  race,  the  sole  guardian  of  that  princely  house 
was  a  daughter,  already  ripe  for  wedlock,  already 
arrived  at  full-blown  womanhood.  Many  were  her 
wooers  from  mighty  Latium,  nay,  from  all  Ausonia. 
One  wooer  there  was  in  beauty  passing  others,  Turnus, 
strong  in  the  glory  of  sires  and  grandsires :  his  alliance 
the  queen  with  intense  yearning  was  seeking  to  com- 
pass ;  but  heavenly  portents  bar  the  way  with  manifold 
alarm.  There  was  a  laurel  in  the  middle  of  the  palace, 
in  the  very  heart  of  ro3^al  privacy,  sacred  in  its  every 
leaf,  cherished  by  the  awful  observance  of  many  years  ; 
men  said  that  father  Latinus  himself  found  it  there 
when  he  first  laid  the  foundation  of  the  tower,  dedi- 
cated it  to  Phoebus,  and  thence  gave  his  new  people  the 
name  of  Laurentines.  On  the  top  of  this  tree  lodged  a 
dense  swarm  of  bees,  marvelous  to  tell,  sailing  thither 
with  loud  humming  noise  across  the  liquid  air,  and 
twining  their  legs  together,  the  cluster  in  a  moment 
was  seen  to  hang  from  the  leafy  bough.  At  once  spoke 
a  prophet :   '  There  is  a  stranger  approaching :   I  see 


294  THE  uENEID. 

him  now  ;  along  this  self-same  path  a  troop  is  moving 
hitherward,  and  commanding  the  height  of  the  citadel.' 
Moreover,  while  Lavinia  is  applying  the  hallowed  torch 
to  the  altars,  as  she  stands  in  maiden  purity  at  her 
father's  side,  she  was  seen,  oh,  monstrous  sight!  to 
catch  the  fire  with  her  long  tresses,  all  her  headgear 
consuming  in  the  crackling  flame,  her  queenly  hair,  her 
jeweled  coronal  all  ablaze,  till  at  last  she  was  wrapt  in 
smoke  and  yellow  glare,  and  scattered  the  fire-god's 
sparks  the  whole  palace  through.  There  indeed  was  a 
tale  of  horror,  a  marvel  and  a  portent ;  for,  said  the 
wise  men,  she  will  herself  be  illustrious  in  fame  and 
fortune,  but  to  the  nation  she  bodes  tremendous  war. 
Troubled  by  these  prodigies,  the  king  repairs  to  the 
oracle  of  Faunus,  his  prophetic  sire,  to  question  at  the 
groves  beneath  Albunea's  shade  —  that  queen  of  for- 
ests, ever  vocal  with  the  sacred  waters,  ever  breathing 
from  its  dark  heart  deadly  vaporous  steam.  It  is  here 
that  the  tribes  of  Italy  and  all  GEnotrian  land  seek 
answers  in  their  perplexity  ;  hither  the  priestess  brings 
the  inquirer's  ofiering,  lies  in  the  still  of  night  on  a 
couch  of  slaughtered  sheep's  skins,  and  turns  to  sleep, 
when  she  sees  many  phantoms  flitting  in  marvelous 
fashion,  and  hears  divers  voices,  and  enjoys  commun- 
ion with  the  gods,  and  holds  converse  with  Acheron 
down  in  Avernus'  deep.  Here  also  king  Latinus,  in 
quest  of  an  answer,  was  sacrificing  duly  a  hundred 
sheep  of  the  second  year,  and  was  lying  on  their  skins, 
a  fleecy  bed,  when  sudden  from  the  depth  of  the  grove 
an  utterance  was  heard :  '  Look  not  to  ally  your  daugh- 
ter in  wedlock  of  Latium,  O  my  son ;  put  not  faith  in 
marriage  chambers  dressed  and  ready  ;  there  are  sons- 
in-law  from  a  far  country  now  on  their  way,  men  des- 
tined by  mixing  their  blood  with  ours  to  exalt  our  name 


BOOK   VII.  295 

to  the  spheres  —  men  whose  lineal  posterity  shall  one 
day  look  down  and  see  under  their  feet  the  whole 
world,  far  as  the  two  oceans  which  the  sun  surveys  in 
his  daily  round,  revolving  beneath  them  and  wielded 
by  their  control.'  Such  was  the  response  of  father 
Faunus,  the  counsel  given  at  still  of  night :  nor  does 
Latinus  hold  it  shut  in  the  prison  of  his  own  lips  ;  but 
Fame  had  flown  with  the  rumor  through  Ausonia  far 
and  wide  from  city  to  citj^  when  the  young  chivalry 
of  old  Laomedon  anchored  their  ships  on  the  river's 
grassy  bank. 

^neas  and  his  chief  captains,  and  lulus  j'Oung  and 
fair,  lay  their  limbs  to  rest  under  the  boughs  of  a  lofty 
tree ;  there  they  spread  the  banquet,  putting  cakes  of 
flour  along  the  sward  to  support  the  food  —  such  was 
Jove's  high  inspiration  —  and  rearing  on  the  wheaten 
foundation  a  pile  of  wilding  fruits.  It  chanced  that 
when  the  i*est  was  eaten,  the  want  of  meat  forced  them 
to  pl3^  their  tooth  on  those  scanty  gifts  of  Ceres  —  to 
profane  with  venturous  hand  and  mouth  the  sanctity 
of  the  cake's  fated  circle,  nor  respect  the  square  im- 
pressed on  its  surface.  '  What !  eating  our  tables  as 
well  ? '  cries  lulus,  in  his  merry  vein ;  that  and  no 
more.  That  utterance  first  told  the  hearers  that  their 
toils  were  over :  even  as  it  fell  from  the  boy's  mouth 
his  father  caught  it  up  and  broke  it  short,  wondering 
in  himself  at  the  power  of  Heaven.  Then  anon: 
*  Hail  to  thee,  promised  land  of  my  destiny !  hail  to 
you,'  he  cries,  '  Troy's  faithful  gods  !  Yes,  here  is  our 
home  —  this  our  country.  It  was  my  father  —  these, 
I  remember,  were  the  mystic  words  of  fate  he  left  me : 
My  son,  whenever  you  are  wafted  to  an  unknown  coast, 
and  hunger  drives  you,  failing  food,  to  eat  your  tables, 
then  remember  my  saying,  there  look  for  a  home  of 


296  THE  yENEW. 

rest,  set  up  your  first  roof-tree  and  strengthen  it  with 
mound  and  rampart.  This  was  the  hunger  he  meant. 
This  was  the  last  strait  in  store  for  us,  not  the  begin- 
ning but  the  end  of  death.  Come  then,  take  heart, 
and  with  the  morrow's  earliest  light  explore  we  what 
is  the  place,  who  its  dwellers,  where  the  city  of  the 
nation,  making  from  the  haven  in  different  wa3^s. 
Meanwhile  pour  libations  to  Jove,  invoke  in  prayer 
my  sire  Anchises,  and  set  again  the  wine  on  the 
board.'  So  having  said,  he  wreathes  his  brow  with 
the  leafy  spray,  and  offers  prayer  to  the  genius  of  the 
spot ;  to  Earth  the  eldest  of  the  gods  ;  to  the  nymphs 
and  the  streams  yet  unknown  b}'  name :  after  that, 
to  Night  and  Night's  new-born  stars,  and  Ida's  Jove, 
and  Phr3^gia's  mighty  mother,  invoking  each  in  turn, 
and  his  own  two  parents  in  the  upper  and  the  nether 
world.  Just  then  the  Almighty  Father  thundered 
thrice  aloft  in  a  clear  sk}^,  and  with  his  own  right 
hand  flashed  in  open  view  from  on  high  a  cloud  ablaze 
with  rays  of  golden  light.  At  once  the  news  spreads 
among  the  Trojan  ranks  that  the  day  has  arrived  when 
they  are.,  to  build  their  promised  city.  With  emulous 
haste  they  celebrate  the  banquet,  and  in  the  power  of 
the  august  presage  set  on  the  bowls  exultingl}^,  and 
wreathe  the  wine. 

Soon  as  on  the  morrow  the  risen  day  began  to 
illumine  the  earth  with  the  first  sparkle  of  her  torch, 
some  here,  some  there,  they  set  about  exploring  the 
city,  the  frontiers,  the  seaboard  of  the  country.  This, 
they  learn,  is  the  spring  of  Numicius,  this  the  river 
Tiber,  this  the  home  of  the  brave  Latian  race.  There- 
upon Anchises'  son  commands  an  embassy  of  a.  hun- 
dred, chosen  from  all  classes  alike,  to  go  to  the 
monarch's  royal  city,  all  of  them  with  wreathed  boughs 


BOOK   VII.  297 

from  Pallas'  tree,  to  carry  presents  for  his  honored 
hand,  and  entreat  his  friendship  for  the  Teucrians. 
They  delay  not,  but  hasten  at  his  bidding,  moving 
with  rapid  pace,  while  he  is  marking  out  the  cit}^  with 
a  shallow  trench,  preparing  the  ground,  and  surround- 
ing this  their  first  settlement  on  the  coast,  camp-fashion, 
with  battlements  and  earthworks.  Meanwhile  the  mis- 
sioned band  had  performed  their  journey,  and  were 
in  sight  of  the  towers  and  stately  homes  of  Latium, 
and  passing  under  the  city  wall.  In  a  space  before  the 
town,  boys  and  j^ouths  in  their  prime  are  exercising  on 
horseback,  and  breaking  in  their  harnessed  cars  among 
clouds  of  dust,  or  bending  the  sharp-springing  bow,  or 
hurling  from  the  arm  the  quivering  javelin,  or  vying 
on  foot  or  with  the  gloves,  when  galloping  up,  a  mes- 
senger announces,  in  the  aged  monarch's  ears,  that 
might}^  men  have  arrived  in  strange  attire.  The  king 
bids  him  summon  them  into  the  presence-hall,  and 
takes  his  seat  in  the  midst  on  his  ancestral  throne. 
It  was  a  reverend  pile,  of  vast  proportions,  raised 
high  upon  a  hundred  pillars,  on  the  city's  topmost 
ground,  the  palace  of  Picus  the  Laurentine,  clothed 
in  the  terror  of  waving  woods  and  hereditary  a\^e. 
Here  it  was  held  to  be  of  auspicious  presage  that 
kings  should  first  take  in  hand  the  scepter,  and  lift 
up  the  fasces :  this  temple  was  their  senate-house,  the 
hall  for  their  sacrificial  feasts :  here,  when  a  ram  was 
slain,  the  seniors  were  wont  to  banquet  down  long  lines 
of  tables.  Here,  too,  in  succession  were  the  effigies 
of  past  generations,  carved  from  ancient  cedar.  Ita- 
lus  and  father  Sabinus,  planter  of  the  vine,  preserving 
in  that  mimic  form  his  curved  hook,  and  hoary  Saturn, 
and  the  image  of  two-faced  Janus,  all  standing  in  the 
vestibule,  and  other  kings  from  the  earliest  days,  and 


298  THE  uENEID. 

heroes  who  had  sustained  the  war-god*s  wounds  in 
fighting  for  their  country.  Moreover,  there  was  hang- 
ing on  the  sacred  doors  abundance  of  armor,  captive 
chariots,  crooked  ax-heads,  helmet-crests,  ponderous 
gates,  javehns,  and  shields,  and  beaks  torn  from  ves- 
sels. There,  as  in  Ufe,  was  sitting,  decked  with  Quiri- 
nal  staff  and  robe  of  scanty  border,  in  his  left  hand 
the  sacred  shield,  Picus,  tamer  of  the  steed,  he  whom, 
in  her  bridal  jealousy,  Circe,  by  a  stroke  of  her  golden 
rod  and  the  witchery  of  her  drugs,  transformed  to 
a  bird,  and  scattered  spots  over  his  wings.  Such 
was  the  temple  where  Latinus,  seated  on  his  ancestral 
throne,  summoned  the  Teucrians  to  his  presence  with- 
in, and  on  their  entry  with  placid  mien  bespoke  them 
thus :  — 

'  Tell  me,  sons  of  Dardanus  —  for  we  know  your  city 
and  3'our  race,  and  your  coming  over  the  deep  has 
reached  our  ears  —  what  is  your  errand?  what  cause 
or  what  necessity  has  wafted  jour  ships  to  our  Auso- 
nian  coast  through  those  many  leagues  of  blue  water  ? 
Be  it  from  ignorance  of  the  way  or  stress  of  weather, 
or  any  of  the  thousand  chances  that  happen  to  sea- 
men on  the  main,  that  3  ou  have  passed  between  our 
river's  banks,  and  are  resting  in  the  haven,  shrink  not 
from  our  welcome,  but  know  in  the  Latian  race  the 
true  people  of  Saturn,  kept  in  righteousness  by  no 
band  of  law,  but  by  our  own  instinct  and  the  rule 
of  our  parent-god.  And  now  I  remember,  though 
years  have  dulled  the  freshness  of  the  tale,  that  aged 
Auruncans  used  to  tell  how  in  this  land  Dardanus  saw 
the  light,  and  hence  he  won  his  way  to  the  towns  of 
Phrygian  Ida  and  Thracian  Samos,  which  men  now  call 
Samothrace.  A}^,  it  was  from  the  house  of  Tuscan 
Cory  thus  he  went,  and  now  the  golden  palace  of  starry 


BOOK   VII.  299 

heaven  seats  him  on  a  throne,  and  among  the  altars  of 
the  gods  makes  room  for  him.' 

He  ended  ;  and  Ilioneus  followed  thus  :  '  Great  king, 
illustrious  son  of  Faunus,  no  stress  of  gloom}^  storm  has 
made  us  the  sport  of  the  waves  and  driven  us  on  your 
coast,  no  sk}-  or  land  misread  has  beguiled  us  of  our 
track :  of  set  purpose,  with  full  intent,  we  are  arrived 
one  and  all  at  your  city,  driven  from  a  realm  once  the 
greatest  which  the  sun  surveyed  in  his  course  from  end 
to  end  of  heaven.  From  Jove  is  the  origin  of  our 
race ;  in  Jove,  as  their  ancestor,  the  sons  of  Dardanus 
glorj^ ;  our  monarch  himself,  sprung  of  Jove's  own 
pure  blood,  ^neas  of  Tro}',  has  sent  us  to  your  doors. 
How  dire  a  hurricane,  launched  from  fell  Mycenae, 
swept  over  Ida's  plains  —  how  the  two  worlds  of  Eu- 
rope and  Asia,  fate  driving  each,  met  and  crashed 
together  —  has  reached  the  ears  of  the  man,  if  such 
there  be,  whom  earth's  last  corner  withdraws  from  the 
wash  of  ocean,  and  his  too  who  is  parted  from  his  fel- 
lows by  the  zone  that  lies  midmost  among  the  four,  the 
zone  of  the  tyrannous  sun.  From  the  jaws  of  that 
deluge  %ing  over  many  and  mighty  waters,  we  ask  of 
you  for  our  country's  gods  a  narrow  resting-place  — 
the  harmless  privilege  of  the  coast,  and  the  common 
liberty  of  water  and  air.  We  shall  be  no  disgrace  to 
30ur  kingdom,  nor  light  shall  be  the  fame  that  men  will 
blaze  of  3'ou,  nor  shall  gratitude  for  your  great  bounty 
grow  old,  nor  shall  Ausonia  mourn  the  day  when  she 
welcomed  Troy  to  her  heart.  I  swear  b}^  Eneas'  star, 
by  his  strong  right  hand,  known  as  such  by  all  who 
have  proved  it  in  friendship  or  in  war,  many  have  been 
the  peoples,  many  the  nations  —  nay,  scorn  us  not  for 
that  we  accost  you  with  fillets  of  suppliance  and  words 
of  prayer  —  who  have  sued  for  our  company  and  wished 


300    •  THE  ^NEID. 

to  make  us  one  with  them.  But  the  oracles  of  heaven, 
speaking  as  they  onlj^  can,  have  driven  us  to  search  out 
3'our  realms.  Hence  sprang  Dardanus  ;  hither  Apollo 
bids  us  return,  with  the  instance  of  high  command, 
even  to  Tuscan  Tiber  and  the  sacred  waters  of  Numi- 
cius*  spring.  Moreover  here  are  presents  from  ^neas, 
the  scanty  offerings  of  past  prosperit}',  relics  snatched 
from  the  flames  of  Troy.  From  this  gold  his  father, 
Anchises,  poured  libations  at  the  altar ;  this  was 
Priam's  royal  accouterment,  when  he  gave  laws  in 
kingl}'  fashion  to  the  assembled  people ;  this  scepter, 
this  sacred  diadem,  these  robes,  the  work  of  Trojan 
dames.' 

Thus,  as  Ilioneus  is  speaking,  Latinus  holds  his 
countenance  in  set  downcast  gaze,  and  sits  rooted  to 
his  throne,  turning  his  eyes  in  intense  thought.  Nor 
does  the  broidered  purple  stir  his  princely  mind ;  no, 
nor  the  scepter  of  Priam,  so  deepty  as  he  ponders  on 
the  wedlock,  the  bridal  bed  of  his  daughter,  revolving 
in  his  breast  old  Faunus'  oracle.  This  must  be  that 
predicted  son-in-law,  arrived  from  a  foreign  home,  des- 
tined to  reign  in  joint  sovereignty  with  himself;  thence 
must  be  born  that  glorious  progeny,  whose  prowess  is 
to  master  the  world.  At  length  he  breaks  out  in  glad 
tones :  ^  May  the  gods  prosper  our  intent  and  ratify 
their  own  presage  !  Yes,  Trojan,  you  shall  have  your 
prayer,  nor  do  I  reject  your  presents.  Long  as  Lati- 
nus shall  reign,  you  shall  not  lack  the  bounty  of  a 
fruitful  soil,  nor  miss  the  wealth  of  Troy.  Let  but 
^neas  himself,  if  his  desire  of  us  is  so  great,  if  he 
covets  the  tie  of  hospitality  and  the  style  of  alliance, 
come  to  our  presence,  nor  shrink  from  eyes  that  will 
view  him  kindly.  Peace  will  be  incomplete  till  I  have 
touched  your  monarch's  hand.     And  now  do  you  take 


BOOK    VII.  301 

back  to  your  king  this  my  message  :  I  have  a  daughter, 
whose  marriage  with  a  husband  of  our  nation  is  forbid- 
den by  voices  from  m}^  father's  shrine,  by  countless 
prodigies  from  heaven ;  sons-in-law  are  to  arrive  from 
foreign  climes  —  such,  the}^  say,  is  Fate's  will  for  La- 
tium  —  who  by  mixing  their  blood  with  ours  are  to 
exalt  our  name  to  the  spheres.  That  he  is  this  chosen 
one  of  destiny  is  my  belief,  and,  if  my  mind  reads  the 
future  true,  my  award.'  With  these  words  the  old 
king  makes  choice  of  horses  from  the  multitude  he 
possessed.  '  Three  hundred  there  were,  sleek-coated, 
standing  in  their  lofty  stalls.  At  once  he  bids  his  ser- 
vants bring  for  each  of  the  Teucrians  a  fleet-foot  with 
housings  of  embroidered  purple ;  golden  poitrels  hang 
down  to  the  chest  of  each  ;  there  is  gold  on  their  cov- 
erings ;  3'ellow  gold  under  their  champing  teeth.  For 
the  absent  ^neas  he  orders  a  car  and  two  coursers  of 
ethereal  seed,  snorting  lire  from  their  nostrils,  sprung 
of  that  brood  which  artful  Circe  raised  up  fraudfully  to 
her  father  the  Sun,  a  spurious  race,  from  the  womb  of 
a  mortal  dam.  Thus  graced  with  gifts  and  kind 
speeches,  the  children  of  -^neas  journey  homeward  on 
their  tall  steeds,  and  carrj'  tidings  of  peace. 

Meanwhile,  there  was  Jove's  relentless  spouse  travel- 
ing <back  from  her  own  Argos,  city  of  Inachus,  and 
already  launched  on  mid  air  ;  looking  from  the  sky  over 
Sicilian  Pachynus,  she  beheld  in  distant  prospect 
^neas  in  his  hour  of  joy  and  the  Dardan  fleet.  Al- 
ready she  sees  him  building  his  home  ;  already  he  has 
made  the  soil  his  friend,  and  has  parted  from  his  ships. 
Pierced  with  bitter  grief,  she  stayed  her  course,  and 
then,  shaking  her  head,  pours  ft*om  her  heart  words 
like  these  :  *  Ah,  that  hated  stock  !  those  destinies  of 
Phrygia  that  hold  my  destinies  in  check !    Did  the  dead 


302  THE  MNEID, 

really  fall  on  the  plains  of  Sigeum?  were  the  captives 
captured  in  truth?  did  the  flames  of  Troy  burn  the 
men  of  Troy  ?  Through  the  heart  of  the  battle,  through 
the  heart  of  the  fire  they  have  found  a  way.  Ay,  be- 
like, my  power  at  last  lies  gasping ..aud  spent;  my 
hatred  is  slaked  and  I  am  at  peace.  I,  who  followed 
them  with  a  foe's  zeal  over  the  water  even  when  tossed 
from  their  country's  arms,  and  met  the  exiles  front  to 
front  on  every  sea !  Spent  on  these  Teucrians  is  all 
that  sky  and  surge  can  do.  Have  Syrtes,  has  Scylla, 
has  Charybdis'  yawning  gulf  stood  me  aught  in  stead  ? 
They  have  gained  the  channel  of  Tiber,  the  haven  of 
their  wishes,  and  may  laugh  at  ocean  and  at  me.  Mars 
had  strength  to  destroy  the  Lapithan  nation,  huge  as 
they  were  ;  the  father  of  the  gods  gave  up  the  honored 
land  of  Catydon  to  Diana's  vengeance  ;  and  what  had 
Lapithans  or  Cal3'don  done  to  earn  such  penal  ruin  ? 
But  I,  Jove's  great  consort,  who  have  stooped,  miser- 
ably stooped,  to  leave  nothing  untried,  who  have  as- 
sumed every  form  by  turns,  am  vanquished  by  JEneas. 
Well,  if  my  power  be  not  august  enough,  I  would  not 
shrink  from  suing  for  other  aid,  be  it  found  where  it 
may  ;  if  I  cannot  prevail  above,  I  will  stir  up  the  fiends 
of  the  deep.  It  will  not  be  mine  to  keep  him  from  the 
crown  of  Latium  —  be  it  so  ;  fixed  for  him  by  fate  un- 
alterably is  his  bride  Lavinia ;  but  delays  and  impedi- 
ments may  well  be  where  the  matter  is  so  great ;  but 
to  cut  off  the  subjects  of  our  two  monarchs —  this. may 
be  done.  So  let  father  and  son-in-law  embrace,  at  the 
cost  of  their  people's  lives.  The  blood  of  Trojan  and 
Rutulian  shall  be  3^our  dower,  fair  lady ;  Bellona  is 
waiting  to  lead  you  to  your  chamber.  Nor  is  Hecuba 
the  only  mother  that  has  teemed  with  a  fire-brand  and 
given  birth  to  a  nuptial  blaze ;  Venus  sees  the  tale 


BOOK   VII.  303 

repeated  in  her  own  offspring  —  a  second  Paris  —  a 
funeral  torch  rekindled  for  reviving  Troy.' 

Having  vented  words  like  these,  she  flfew  down  in 
black  rage  to  the  earth ;  and  now  she  summons  Alecto 
the  baleful  from  the  dwelling  of  the  dread  goddesses 
and  the  darkness  of  the  pit  —  Alecto,  whom  bitter 
wars,  and  strifes,  and  stratagems,  and  injurious  crimes 
cheer  like  a  cordial.  Hateful  even  to  Pluto  her  sire  is 
the  fiend,  hateful  to  her  Tartarean  sisters,  so  many  the 
forms  she  puts  on,  so  terrible  the  mien  of  each,  so 
countless  the  vipers  that  burgeon  blackly  from  her 
head.  Her,  thus  dreadful,  Juno  lashes  to  fiercer  fury, 
speaking  on  this  wise  :  '  Grant  me,  maiden  daughter  of 
Night,  a  boon  all  my  own  —  thine  undivided  aid,  that 
my  praise  and  renown  may  not  be  dashed  from  their 
pedestal  —  that  the  children  of  ^neas  may  not  be  able 
to  ensnare  Latinus  in  a  bridal  alliance  or  beset  the 
Italian  frontier.  Thou  canst  make  brothers  of  one  soul 
take  arms  and  fight ;  canst  make  peaceful  homes  dens 
of  strife ;  thou  canst  gain  entrance  for  the  scourge 
and  the  funeral  torch :  thou  hast  a  thousand  names,  a 
thousand  means  of  ill.  Stir  up  that  prolific  bosom, 
snap  the  formed  bands  of  peace,  scatter  the  incentives 
of  war,  let  the  nation  in  the  same  moment  desire,  de- 
mand, and  seize  the  sword.' 

So  then  Alecto,  empoisoned  with  Gorgon  venom, 
first  repairs  to  Latium  and  the  lofty  halls  of  the  Lau- 
rentine  monarch,  and  sits  down  before  the  hushed 
chamber  of  queen  Amata,  who,  as  she  mused  on  the 
arrival  of  the  Trojans  and  Turnus'  bridal  hopes,  was 
glowing  and  seething  with  all  a  woman's  passion,  a 
woman's  spleen.  Snatching  a  snake  from  her  dark 
venomed  locks,  she  hurls  it  at  her,  and  lodges  it  in  the 
bosom  close  to  the  very  heart,  that,  maddened  by  the 


304  THE  ^NEID. 

*  pest,  she  may  drive  the  whole  house  wild.  In  glides 
the  reptile  unfelt,  winding  between  the  robe  and  the 
marble  brea'st,  and  beguiles  her  into  frenz^^,  breathing 
into  her  lungs  its  viperous  breath  ;  the  linked  gold  round 
her  neck  turns  to  the  monstrous  serpent ;  so  does  the 
festoon  of  her  long  fillet ;  it  twines  her  hair,  it  slides 
smoothly  from  limb  to  limb.  And  while  the  first  access 
of  contagion,  stealing  in  with  clammy  poison,  is  pervad- 
ing her  senses  and  threading  her  bones  with  flame,  ere 
yet  the  soul  has  caught  fire  through  the  whole  compass 
of  the  bosom,  she  speaks  with  gentle  plaint,  as  mothers 
wont,  shedding  many  tears  over  her  child  and  the  Phry- 
gian alliance :  '  And  are  fugitives  from  Troy  to  take 
Lavinia  in  marriage,  good  father?  have  you  no  com- 
passion for  3'our  daughter  and  yourself?  none  for  her 
mother,  whom  with  the  first  fair  gale  the  faithless  pirate 
will  leave  and  make  for  the  deep,  carrying  ofi"  his 
maiden  prey  ?  Ay,  things  were  not  so  when  the  Phry- 
gian shepherd  stole  into  Lacedsemon,  and  bore  awaj^ 
Leda's  Helen  to  Troy  town.  Where  is  j^our  pledged 
faith  ?  where  your  old  tenderness  for  3^our  own  blood, 
and  your  hand  phghted  so  oft  to  your  kinsman  Turnus  ? 
If  Latian  folk  must  have  a  son-in-law  fetched  from  a 
foreign  stock,  and  this  is  unalterabljv  fixed,  and  your 
father  Faunus'  command  sits  heavy  on  3^our  soul,  I  hold 
that  every  nation  is  foreign  whose  independence  severs 
it  from  our  rule,  and  that  such  is  Heaven's  intent. 
Turnus,  too,  if  you  go  back  to  the  first  foundation  of 
his  house,  has  Inachus  and  Acrisius  for  his  ancestors, 
and  the  heart  of  Mycenae  for  his  home.'  But  when, 
having  tried  in  vain  what  these  words  can  do,  she  sees 
Latinus  obstinately  bent,  and  meantime  the  serpent's 
fiendish  mischief  has  sunk  deep  into  her  vitals,  and  is 
thriUing  every  vein,  then  at  last  the  miserable  queen. 


BOOK   VIL  305 

unsexed  by  the  portentous  enormity,  raves  in  ungov- 
erned  frenzy  through  the  city's  length  and  breadth ;  as 
oft  you  may  see  a  top  spinning  under  the  lash,  which 
boys  are  flogging  round  and  round  in  a  great  ring  in  an 
empty  courtyard,  with  every  thought  on  their  game: 
driven  by  the  whip  it  keeps  making  circle  after  circle : 
the  beardless  faces  hang  over  it  in  puzzled  wonder, 
marveling  how  the  boxwood  can  fly,  as  though  the 
blows  made  it  a  living  thing.  With  motion  as  furious 
she  courses  through  crowded  streets  and  unruly  peo- 
ples. Nay,  more  than  this,  she  feigns  the  inspiration 
of  Bacchus,  nerving  herself  to  more  atrocious  deeds, 
and  climbing  new  heights  of  madness  —  flies  into  the 
woods,  and  hides  her  daughter  among  the  leafy  hills, 
all  to  snatch  from  the  Teucrians  the  bridal  bed  and 
delaj'  the  kindling  of  Hymen's  torch.  '-  Evoe  Bacchus  ! ' 
is  her  cry  ;  '  thou,  and  none  but  thou  art  fit  mate  for  a 
maid  like  this.  See  !  for  thee  she  takes  up  the  sacred 
wand,  for  thee  she  leads  the  dance,  for  thee  she  grows 
her  dedicated  hair.'  Fame  flies  abroad  ;  other  mothers 
are  instinct  with  frenzy,  and  all  have  the  same  mad 
passion  driving  them  to  seek  a  new  home.  They  have 
left  their  houses,  and  are  spreading  hair  and  shoulders 
to  the  wind  ;  while  some  are  filling  the  sky  with  quiver- 
ing shrieks,  clad  in  fawn-skins,  and  carrying  vine-branch 
spears.  There  in  the  middle  is  the  queen  all  aglow, 
hfting  high  a  blazing  pine,  and  singing  the  bridal  song 
of  Turnus  and  her  daughter,  her  ej-e  red  and  glaring ; 
and  sudden  she  shouts  like  a  savage  :  '  Ho  !  mothers  of 
Latium  all,  where'er  3^e  be,  if  ye  have  human  hearts  and 
kindness  left  there  for  poor  Amata,  if  ye  are  stung  to 
think  of  a  mother's  rights,  oflT  with  the  fillets  from  your 
hair,  and  join  the  orgj'  with  me.'  Such  is  the  queen, 
20 


306  THE  yENEID. 

driven  among  the  woods,  among  the  wild  beasts'  lairs 
far  and  wide,  by  Bacchus'  goad  in  Alecto's  hand. 

And  now,  judging  that  she  had  barbed  enough  the 
,3'oung  fangs  of  frenzy,  upheaving  from  their  bases  the 
royal  purpose  and  the  royal  house,  the  grim  goddess 
next  soars  in  air  on  her  murky  wings  on  to  the  walls  of 
the  bold  Rutulian,  the  city  which  they  say  Danae  built 
for  her  Argive  settlers,  landing  there  under  stress  of 
wind.  Ardea  was  the  name  which  past  generations 
gave  the  place,  and  Ardea  still  keeps  her  august  title ; 
but  her  star  is  set.  Here,  in  his  loft}^  palace,  Turnus 
at  deep  of  night  was  in  the  midst  of  his  sleep.  Alecto 
puts  off  her  hideous  features  and  her  fiendish  shape, 
transforms  herself  to  an  old  woman's  countenance  and 
furrows  her  loathly  brow  with  wrinkles,  assumes  hoary 
locks  and  woolen  fillet,  lastly  twines  them  w^ith  an  olive 
spray,  and  so  becomes  Calj^be,  the  aged  priestess  of 
Juno's  temple  ;  and  presents  herself  to  the  young  war- 
rior's e3'es  with  such  words  as  these  :  ••  And  can  Turnus 
calmly  see  all  his  toils  poured  out  in  vain,  and  the  crown 
that  is  his  own  transferred  to  settlers  from  Dardania  ? 
See,  the  king  is  refusing  you  your  bride  and  j^our  blood- 
bought  dowry,  and  search  is  being  made  for  a  foreign 
heir  to  fill  the  throne.  Go  on  now,  confront  ungracious 
perils,  and  earn  derision ;  go,  mow  down  the  Tuscan 
ranks,  and  spread  over  Latium  the  shield  of  peace. 
These  very  words  Saturn's  almighty  daughter  with  her 
own  lips  bade  me  say  to  you  when  you  should  be  slum- 
bering in  the  still  of  night.  Rise,  then,  bid  your  sol- 
diery arm  and  move  from  city  to  camp,  set  fire  to  the 
Phrygian  chiefs  who  have  anchored  in  our  fair  river 
and  to  their  painted  ships.  The  dread  voice  of  heaven 
speaks  by  me.  Nay,  let  king  Latinus,  unless  he  con- 
sent to  give  you  your  bride  .^nd  respect  his  promise, 


BOOK  VII.  307 

feel  at  last  and  find  what  it  is  to  have  Turnus  for  a 
foe.' 

Laughing  scornfulty  at  the  old  seer,  the  youth  thus 
spoke  in  reply :  '  The  news  that  a  fleet  has  arrived  in 
the  Tiber  has  not,  as  you  imagine,  escaped  my  ear. 
Conjure  me  no  such  mighty  terrors,  nor  think  that 
queen  Juno  has  forgotten  me.  No,  it  is  you,  good 
mother,  whom  moldering  dotage,  drained  dry  of  truth, 
is  vexing  to  no  end,  mocking  your  prophetic  soul  with 
false  alarms  in  an  atmosphere  of  royal  armaments. 
You  are  in  your  place  watching  over  statues  and  tem- 
ples ;  but  war  and  peace  must  be  wielded  by  men 
whose  work  war  is.' 

At  these  words  Alecto  kindled  into  wrath.  Even  in 
the  act  of  speaking  a  shudder  seized  the  youth's  frame 
and  his  eyes  grew  stiff  and  stony,  so  fierce  the  hissing 
of  the  Fury's  thousand  snakes,  so  monstrous  the  feat- 
ures that  rose  on  his  view.  Instant  with  a  roll  of  her- 
fiery  orbs  she  thrust  him  back  as  he  faltered  and  tried 
to  speak  further ;  on  either  brow  she  upreared  a  ser- 
pent lock,  and  cracked  her  whip,  and  with  infuriate  lips 
followed  thus':  '  Here  is  the  moldering  mother,  whom 
dotage,  drained  dry  of  truth,  is  mocking  with  false 
alarms  in  an  atmosphere  of  royal  armaments.  Turn 
your  eyes  hither ;  I  am  come  from  the  dwelling  of  the 
Dread  Sisters :  war  and  death  are  wielded  by  this 
hand.' 

Saying  thus,  she  hurled  a  torch  full  at  the  j^outh,  and 
lodged  in  his  breast  the  pine- wood  with  its  lurid  smoke 
and  glare.  The  bonds  of  sleep  are  broken  by  the  giant 
terror,  and  a  burst  of  sweat  all  over  bathes  the  whole 
man,  bone  and  limb.  '  My  sword ! '  he  screams  in 
frenzy ;  for  his  sword  he  searches  pillow  and  palace : 
the  fever  of  the  steel,  the  guilty  madness  of  bloodshed 


308  THE  jENEID. 

rage  within  him,  and  angry  pride  tops  all:  even  as 
when  loud-crackling  a  fire  of  sticks  is  heaped  round 
the  sides  of  a  waving  caldron,  and  the  heat  makes  the 
water  start;  there  within  is  the  flood,  steaming  and 
storming,  and  bubbling  high  in  froth,  till  at  last  the 
wave  cannot  contain  itself,  and  the  black  vapor  flies 
up  into  the  air.  So  then,  trampling  on  treaties,  he 
gives  the  word  to  the  chiefs  of  his  soldiery  for  a  march 
upon  king  Latinus,  and  bids  arms  be  got  ready.  Italy 
must  be  protected,  the  foe  must  be  driven  from  the 
frontier ;  he  and  his  men  will  be  enough  for  both,  Teu- 
crians  and  Latians.  So  he  says  and  appeals  to  Heaven  : 
and  the  Rutulians  with  emulous  zeal  encourage  each 
other  to  the  figlit.  This  one  is  fired  by  his  leader's 
peerless  beauty  and  youth;  this  by  the  kings  in  his 
.pedigree  ;  this  by  the  glorious  deeds  of  his  hand. 

While  Turnus  is  filling  the  Rutulians  with  the  spirit 
of  daring,  Alecto  is  putting  her  infernal  wings  in  mo- 
tion against  the  Teucrians.  A  new  device  working  in 
her  mind,  she  fixed  her  e3'e  on  the  spot  where  on  the 
winding  coast  lulus  was  hunting  game  with  the  snare 
and  the  course.  Hereon  the  maiden  of  Coc^^tus  sud- 
denly presents  to  the  hounds  a  maddening  lure,  and 
touches  their  nostrils  with  the  scent  they  know  so  well, 
making  them  chase  a  stag  in  full  cry ;  which  was  the 
first  origin  of  the  trouble,  and  put  the  spark  of  war  to 
the  spirit  of  the  countryside.  There  was  a  stag  of  beau- 
teous form  and  lofty  horns,  taken  by  the  sons  of  Tyr- 
rheus  from  its  mother's  breast,  and  brought  up  by  them 
and  their  father  Tyrrheus,  who  had  the  control  of  the 
royal  herds  and  the  charge  of  the  whole  range  of  lawn. 
Trained  to  obey,  it  was  the  chief  care  of  their  sister 
Silvia  ;  she  would  deck  and  wreathe  its  horns  with  deli- 
cate festoons,  and  comb  its  rough  coat,  and  wash  it  in 


BOOK   VII.  809 

the  clear  stream.  Grown  tame  to  the  hand,  and  accus- 
tomed to  its  master's  table,  it  would  run  free  in  the 
forest  and  take  itself  back  home  to  the  well-known 
door,  however  late  the  night.  Now,  in  one  of  its  wan- 
derings the  maddened  hounds  of  lulus  started  it  in  the 
hunt,  as  it  happened  to  be  floating  down  the  stream  or 
alla3ing  its  heat  on  the  verdant  bank.  Ascanius  him- 
self, fired  with  a  proud  ambition,  bent  his  bow  and  lev- 
eled a  shaft :  nor  did  his  hand  err  for  want  of  heavenly 
aid:  the  reed  sped  with  a  loud  hurtling  sound  and 
pierced  the  belly  and  the  flank.  The  wounded  creature 
took  refuge  under  the  roof  it  knew,  and  moaning  crept 
into  its  stall,  and  bleeding  all  over  filled,  like  a  human 
suppliant,  the  house  with  its  piteous  plaints.  Sister 
Silvia  first,  smiting  on  her  arms  with  her  flat  hands, 
calls  for  help  and  summons  the  rough  countrj^  folk. 
They  —  for  the  fell  fiend  is  lurking  in  the  silence  of  the 
forest  —  are  at  her  side  ere  she  looks  for  them,  armed 
one  with  a  seared  brand,  one  with  a  heavj^  knotted 
stock  :  what  each  first  finds  as  he  gropes  about,  anger 
makes  do  weapon's  service.  Tyrrheus  musters  the 
compan}',  just  as  the  news  found  him,  splitting  an  oak 
in  four  with  convergent  wedges,  catching  up  an  ax  and 
breathing  savage  rage.  But  the  cruel  goddess,  seizing 
from  her  watch-tower  the  moment  of  mischief,  makes 
for  the  stall's  lofty  roof,  and  from  its  summit  shrills 
forth  the  shepherd's  clarion,  pitching  high  on  the 
wreathen  horn  her  Tartarean  note ;  at  the  sound  the 
whole  line  of  forest  was  convulsed,  and  the  woods 
echoed  to  their  depths  :  it  was  heard  far  oflT  by  Trivia's 
lake,  heard  by  river  Nar  with  his  whitening  sulphurous 
waters,  and  b}^  the  springs  of  the  Veline :  and  terror- 
stricken  mothers  clasped  their  children  to  their  breasts. 
At  once  running  to  the  sound  with  which  the  dread 


310  THE  ^NEID. 

clarion  gave  the  signal,  the  untamed  rustics  snatch  up 
their  weapons  and  gather  from  all  sides ;  while  the 
forces  of  Troy,  on  their  part,  pour  through  the  camp's 
open  gates  their  succor  for  Ascanius.  It  is  no  longer  a 
woodman's  quarrel  waged  with  heav}'  clubs  or  seared 
stakes ;  they  try  the  issue  with  two-edged  steel ;  a 
dark  harvest  of  drawn  swords  bristles  over  the  field; 
the  brass  shines  responsive  to  the  sun's  challenge,  and 
flings  its  radiance  skj^ward ;  as  when  the  wave  has 
begun  to  whiten  under  the  rising  wind,  the  ocean  grad- 
ualty  upheaves  itself,  and  raises  its  billows  higher  and 
higher,  till  at  last,  from  its  lowest  depths,  it  mounts  up 
to  heaven.  See !  as  the  arrow  whizzes,  a  j'oung  war- 
rior in  the  first  rank,  once  Tj^rrheus'  eldest  born,  Almo, 
is  laid  low  in  death ;  for  the  wound  has  lodged  in  his 
throat,  and  has  cut  off,  with  the  rush  of  blood,  the  pas- 
sage of  the  liquid  voice  and  the  vital  breath.  Round 
him  lie  many  gallant  frames,  and  among  them  old  Galse- 
sus,  while  throwing  himself  between  the  armies  and 
pleading  for  peace  ;  none  so  just  as  he,  none  so  wealthy 
before  to-day  in  Ausonian  land  ;  five  flocks  of  sheep  had 
he,  five  herds  of  oxen  went  to  and  fro  from  his  stalls, 
and  his  land  was  furrowed  by  a  hundred  ploughs. 

While  thus  on  the  plains  the  impartial  war- god  deals 
out  fortune,  the  goddess,  having  achieved  her  promise, 
soon  as  she  had  inaugurated  the  war  with  blood,  and 
brought  the  battle  to  its  first  murderous  shock,  flies 
from  Hesperia,  and  rounding  the  cope  of  heaven,  ad- 
dresses Juno  in  the  haughty  tones  of  triumph:  '  See 
here  the  work  of  discord  complete  in  the  horrors  of 
war !  Now  bid  them  come  together  in  friendship  and 
strike  trace.  Thou  hast  seen  that  I  can  sprinkle  the 
Trojans  with  Ausonian  blood ;  let  me  but  be  assured 
of  thy  wish,  I  will  give  thee  a  further  boon :  I  will  sow 


BOOK   VIL  311 

rumors  and  bring  the  neighboring  cities  into  the  war, 
and  inflame  their  souls  with  mad  martial  passion  to 
crowd  from  all  sides  with  succor ;  I  will  scatter  arms 
broadcast.'  Juno  returns :  '  There  is  panic  and  treach- 
ery enough  ;  the  seeds  of  war  are  sown  deep  ;  men  are 
fighting  hand  to  hand  ;  the  weapons  which  chance  first 
supplied  are  being  seasoned  with  new-spilt  blood. 
Such  be  the  alliance,  such  the  nuptial  rites  solemnized 
by  Venus'  virtuous  son  and  good  king  Latinus.  For 
thee  to  walk  the  upper  air  with  larger  freedom  would 
displease  the  great  Father,  the  monarch  of  high  Ol3^m- 
pus.  Give  place ;  should  any  chance  emerge  in  the 
struggle,  mj'self  will  deal  with  it.'  So  spoke  Saturn's 
daughter :  the  Fury  lifts  her  wings  that  hurtle  with  ser- 
pent plumage,  and  seeks  her  home  in  Cocytus,  leaving 
the  altitudes  above.  There  is  a  place  in  the  bosom 
of  Italy,  under  the  shadow  of  lofty  hills,  known  to 
fame  and  celebrated  in  far-off  lands,  the  vale  of 
Amsanctus ;  pent  between  two  woody  slopes,  dark 
with  dense  foliage,  while  at  the  bottom  a  broken  tor- 
rent makes  a  roaring  among  the  rocks  along  its  wind- 
ing bed.  Here  men  show  an  awful  cavern,  the  very 
gorge  of  the  fell  infernal  god,  and  a  deep  gulf  through 
which  Acheron  breaks  open  its  baleful  mouth:  there 
dived  the  Fur}',  and  relieved  of  her  loathed  presence 
earth  and  heaven. 

Meanwhile,  for  her  part,  Saturn's  roj^al  daughter 
gives  the  last  touch  that  brings  down  the  war.  From 
the  battle-field  there  pours  into  the  city  the  whole 
company  of  shepherds,  with  their  slain  in  their  arms, 
young  Almo  and  Galaesus'  disfigured  countenance,  call- 
ing on  the  gods  and  adjuring  Latinus.  Turnus  is  on 
the  spot,  and,  in  the  fury  and  fire  of  the  blood-cry, 
sounds   again   and   again   the   note   of  terror :    '  The 


312  THE  jENEID. 

Teucrians  are  invited  to  reign  in  Latium ;  a  Phrygian 
shoot  is  to  be  grafted  on  the  royal  tree ;  the  palace- 
gate  is  closed  on  himself.'  Moreover,  the  kinsmen 
of  the  matrons,  who  in  Bacchic  madness  are  footing 
the  pathless  woods  —  for  Amata's  name  weighs  not 
lightly  —  muster  from  all  sides,  and  strain  the  throat 
of  Mars  to  hoarseness.  All  at  once,  defying  omens 
and  oracles,  under  the  spell  of  a  cursed  deity,  they 
clamor  for  an  atrocious  war.  With  emulous  zeal  they 
swarm  round  Latinus'  palace ;  he,  like  a  rock  in  the 
sea,  stands  unshaken ;  like  a  rock  in  the  sea  before 
the  rush  and  crash  of  waters,  which,  amid  thousands 
of  barking  waves,  is  fixed  by  its  own  weight ;  the 
crags  and  the  spray-foamed  stones  roar  about  it  in 
vain,  and  the  lashed  seaweed  falls  idly  from  its  side. 
But  when  he  finds  no  power  given  him  to  counterwork 
the  secret  agency,  and  all  is  moving  at  relentless  Juno's 
beck,  then  with  manj^  an  appeal  to  the  gods  and  the 
soulless  skies,  '  Alas  ! '  exclaims  the  good  sire,  '  shat- 
tered are  we  by  destiny  and  whirled  before  the  storm ! 
On  you  will  come  the  reckoning,  and  your  impious 
blood  will  pa}'  it,  my  wretched  children !  You,  Tur- 
nus,  you  will  be  met  by  your  crime  and  its  fearful 
vengeance,  in  a  day  when  it  will  be  too  late  to  pray 
to  Heaven.  For  me,  my  rest  is  assured ;  my  ship  is 
just  dropping  into  port ;  it  is  but  of  a  happy  de- 
parture that  I  am  robbed.'  No  more  he  spoke,  but 
shut  himself  in  an  inner  chamber,  and  let  the  reins  of 
empire  go. 

A  custom  there  was  in  the  Hesperian  days  of  Latium, 
observed  as  sacred  in  succession  by  the  Alban  cities, 
and  now  honored  by  the  observance  of  Rome,  the 
greatest  power  on  earth,  when  men  first  stir  up  the 
war-god  to  battle,  whether  their  purpose  be  to  carry 


BOOK   VIL  313 

piteous  war  among  the  Getse,  the  Hjrcanians,  or  the 
Arabs,  or  to  march  as  far  as  India,  track  the  Morning- 
star  to  its  home,  and  wrest  the  standards  from  the 
grasp  of  Parthia.  There  are  two  folding-gates  of  War 
—  such  the  title  they  bear  —  clothed  with  religious 
awe  and  with  the  terrors  of  Mars  the  cruel ;  they  are 
closed  by  a  hundred  brazen  bars  and  by  the  everlast- 
ing strength  of  iron,  and  Janus  never  quits  his  guard 
on  the  threshold.  When  the  fathers  finally  conclude 
for  battle,  the  consul  himself,  in  the  pride  of  Quiri- 
nus'  striped  robe  and  the  Gabine  cincture,  unbars  the 
grating  portals,  and  with  his  own  voice  invokes  battle ; 
the  rest  of  the  warriors  take  up  the  crj^,  and  brazen 
horns  blare  out  in  unison  their  hoarse  assent.  Thus, 
it  was  that  then,  too,  Latinus  was  urged  to  declare 
war  against  the  family  of  ^neas  and  to  unclose  the 
grim  gates.  The  good  old  king  recoiled  from  the 
touch,  turned  with  averted  ej'es  from  the  service  he 
loathed,  and  shrouded  himself  in  impenetrable  gloom. 
Then  darted  down  from  the  sk}'  the  queen  of  heaven, 
smote  with  her  own  royal  hand  the  unwilling  portals, 
and  from  their  bursten  fastenings,  as  Saturn's  daughter 
might,  flung  back  the  valves  on  their  hinges.  All 
Ausonia,  sluggish  and  moveless  till  then,  blazes  into 
fury ;  some  commence  their  footmarch  over  the  plain, 
some  from  the  height  of  their  steeds  storm  through 
the  dust ;  one  and  all  crj'  out  for  arms.  Some  are 
rubbing  their  shields  smooth  and  their  javelins  bright 
with  unctuous  lard,  and  putting  their  axes  under  the 
grindstone  ;  there  is  }oy  in  the  carrying  of  the  stand- 
ard, joy  in  the  hearing  of  the  trumpet's  sound.  And 
now  there  are  five  great  cities  with  anvils  everj'where 
set  up,  giving  a  new  edge  to  their  weapons :  Atina 
the  mighty  and  Tiber  the  proud,  Ardea,  and  they  of 


314  THE  ^NEID. 

Crustumium,  and  tower-crowned  Antemnse.  Helmets 
are  hollowed  to  guard  the  head ;  willows  are  twisted 
into  wicker  frames  for  shields  ;  others  are  beating  out 
bjass  into  breastplates,  or  stretching  ductile  silver 
into  polished  greaves.  All  the  pride  of  sickle  and 
share,  all  the  passion  for  the  plough  are  swallowed  up 
in  this ;  they  bring  out  their  fathers'  swords,  and 
smelt  them  anew  in  the  furnace.  Here,  in  wild  haste, 
is  one  snatching  his  helm  from  the  chamber- wall ;  there 
is  another  bringing  his  snorting  steeds  to  the  yoke, 
clothing  himself  with  shield  and  corselet  of  three-piled 
gold,  and  girding  to  his  side  his  trusty  sword.* 


BOOK  VIII. 

Soon  as  Turnus  set  high  on  Laurentum's  tower  the 
ensign  of  war,  and  the  horns  clanged  forth  their  harsh 
music,  soon  as  he  shook  the  reins  in  the  mouth  of  his 
fiery  steeds,  and  clashed  his  armor,  at  once  came  a 
stirring  of  men's  souls  :  all  Latium  conspires  in  tumult- 
uous rising,  and  the  warrior  bands  are  inflamed  to 
madness.  The  generals,  Messapus  and  Ufens  and 
Mezentius,  scorner  of  the  gods,  assume  the  lead, 
mustering  succor  from  all  sides  and  unpeopling  the 
fields  of  their  tillers  far  and  wide.  Venulus  too  is 
sent  to  the  town  of  mighty  Diomede  to  entreat  help, 
and  set  forth  that  the  Teucrians  are  planting  foot  in 
Latium ;  that  -^neas  is  arrived  by  sea  and  intruding 
his  vanquished  home-gods,  and  announcing  himself  as 
the  Latians'  destined  king  ;  that  many  tribes  are  flock- 
ing to  the  standard  of  the  Dardan  chief,  and  the  con- 
*  The  remaining  lines  of  this  Book  are  not  translated.  —  [Ed.] 


BOOK  VIII.  315 

tagion  of  his  name  is  spreading  over  Latium's  length 
and  breadth.  What  is  to  be  the  end  of  such  a  begin- 
ning, what,  should  fortune  favor  him,  he  promises  to 
himself  as  the  issue  of  the  battle,  Diomede  will  know 
better  than  king  Turnus  or  king  Latinus. 

So  go  things  in  Latium.  The  chief  of  Laomedon's 
line  sees  it  all,  and  is  tossed  on  a  sea  of  cares ;  now  on 
this  point,  now  on  that,  he  throws  in  a  moment  the 
forces  of  his  mind,  hurrying  it  into  all  quarters  and 
sweeping  the  whole  range  of  thought:  as  in  water  a 
flickering  beam  on  a  brazen  vat,  darted  back  by  the 
sun  or  the  bright  moon's  image,  flits  far  an(J  wide  over 
the  whole  place,  now  at  last  mounting  to  the  sky  and 
striking  the  ceiling  of  the  roof.  Night  came,  and  tired 
life  the  earth  over,  bird  and  beast  alike,  were  lapped 
deep  in  slumber,  when  ^neas,  good  king,  troubled  at 
heart  by  the  anxious  war,  stretched  himself  on  the  bank 
under  heaven's  chilly  cope,  and  let  repose  at  last  steal 
over  his  frame.  Before  him  appeared  in  person  the 
god  of  the  place,  old  Tiber  of  the  pleasant  stream, 
rising  among  the  poplar  foliage :  a  gray  mantle  of 
transparent  linen  floated  about  him,  and  his  hair  was 
shaded  with  bush}'  reeds  :  and  thus  he  began  to  address 
the  chief  and  relieve  his  care  :  ^  O  offspring  of  heaven's 
stock,  who  are  bringing  back  to  us  safe  from  the  foe  the 
city  of  Troy,  and  preserving  Pergamus  in  enduring  life, 
yourself  looked  for  long  on  the  Laurentian  soil  and  in  the 
fields  of  Latium,  here  is  your  abiding  place  of  rest,  here, 
distrust  it  not,  permanence  for  your  home-gods  :  let  not 
war's  threatenings  make  you  afraid,  the  swellings  of  the 
anger  of  heaven  have  all  given  way.  Even  now,  that 
you  may  not  think  this  the  idle  coinage  of  sleep,  under 
the  oaks  on  the  bank  you  shall  find  an  enormous  swine 
lying  with  a  litter  of  thirty  head  just  born,  white  her- 


316  THE  ^NEID. 

self  throughout  her  lazy  length,  her  children  round  her 
breasts  as  white  as  she  :  a  sign  that  when  thirty  years 
have  made  their  circuit,  Ascanius  shall  found  that  city 
known  by  the  illustrious  name  of  the  White.  Of  no 
doubtful  issue  are  these  words  of  mine.  Now  for  the 
way  in  which  you  may  triumphantly  unravel  the  present 
knot,  grant  me  your  attention,  and  I  will  show  you  in 
brief.  On  this  my  coast,  Arcadians,  a  race  sprung 
from  Pallas,  who  have  followed  king  Evander  and  his 
banner,  have  chosen  themselves  a  site  and  built  a  city 
on  the  hills,  called  from  the  name  of  their  ancestor 
Pallas,  Pallanteum.  These  are  for  ever  engaged  in 
war  with  the  Latian  nation :  let  them  join  your  camp 
as  allies,  and  make  league  with  them.  I  mj-^self  will 
lead  you  between  the  banks,  straight  along  my  stream, 
that  as  you  journey  up  3  our  oars  may  surmount  the 
adverse  current.  Up  then,  goddess-born,  and  ere  the 
stars  have  well  set,  offer  prayer  in  due  course  to  Juno, 
and  overbear  with  suppliant  vows  her  anger  and  her 
menace.  Once  triumphant,  3'ou  shall  pay  yOur  worship 
to  me.  I  am  he  whom  3'ou  see  here  with  brimming 
flood  grazing  the  banks  and  threading  rich  cultured 
lands,  sea-green  Tiber,  the  river  whom  gods  love  best. 
Here  rises  my  royal  palace,  the  crown  of  lofty  cities.' 
The  river-god  said,  and  plunged  into  his  deep  pool, 
down  to  the  bottom  ;  night  and  sleep  at  once  fled  from 
^neas.  He  rises,  and  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  sun's 
rays  just  dawning  on  the  sky,  he  Hfts  iip  in  due  form 
water  from  the  river  in  the  hollow  of  his  hands,  and 
pours  forth  to  heaven  words  like  these:  'Nymphs, 
Laurentian  nymphs,  whence  rivers  derive  their  birth, 
and  thou,  father  Tiber,  with  thy  hallowed  flood,  take 
-^neas  to  your  bosom,  and  at  last  relieve  him  from 
perils.     Whatever  the  spring  of  the  pool  where  thou 


BOOK   VIII.  317 

dwellest  in  thy  pity  for  our  troubles,  whatever  the  soil 
whence  thy  goodly  stream  arises,  ever  shalt  thou  be 
honored  by  me  with  sacrifice,  ever  with  offerings,  the 
river  with  the  crescent  horn,  the  monarch  of  Hesperian 
waters.  Be  but  thou  present,  and  confirm  by  thy  deed 
thy  heavenly  tokens.'  So  saying,  he  chooses  two 
biremes  from  the  fleet  and  fits  them  with  rowers,  while 
he  gives  his  comrades  arms  to  wear. 

When  lo,  a  sudden  portent  marvelous  to  view  — 
stretched  in  milk-white  length  along  the  sward,  herself 
of  one  hue  with  her  white  litter,  conspicuous  on  the 
verdant  bank  is  seen  a  sow,  whom  pious  -^neas  to 
thee,  even  to  thee,  mightiest  Juno,  immolates  in  sacri- 
fice, and  sets  her  with  all  her  brood  before  the  altar. 
That  whole  night  long  Tiber  smoothed  his  brimming 
stream,  and  so  stood  with  hushed  waves,  half  recoiUng, 
as  to  lay  down  a  watery  floor  as  of  some  gentle  lake  or 
peaceful  pool,  that  the  oar  might  have  naught  to  struggle 
with.  So  they  begin  their  voyage  and  speed  with  au- 
spicious cheers.  Smooth  along  the  surface  floats  the 
anointed  pine ;  marveling  stand  the  waters,  marveUng 
the  unwonted  wood,  to  see  the  warriors'  shields  gleam- 
ing far  along  the  stream,  and  the  painted  vessels  glid- 
ing between  the  banks.  The  rowers  give  no  rest  to 
night  or  da}',  as  they  surmount  the  long  meanders, 
sweep  under  the  fringe  of  diverse  trees,  and  cut  through 
the  woods  that  look  green  in  the  still  expanse.  The 
sun  had  cHmbed  in  full  blaze  the  central  cope  of  heaven, 
when  from  afar  they  see  walls,  and  a  citadel,  and  the 
roofs  of  straggling  habitations  —  the  place  which  the 
power  of  Rome  has  now  made  to  mate  the  skies  :  then 
it  was  but  Evander's  poor  domain.  At  once  they  turn 
their  prows  to  land  and  approach  the  town. 

It  happened  that  on  that  day  the  Arcadian  monarch 


318  THE  yENEW. 

was  performing  a  yearty  sacrifice  to  Amphitrj^on's 
mighty  child  and  the  heavenl3'  brotherhood  in  a  grove 
before  the  city.  With  him  his  son  Pallas,  with  him  all 
the  prime  of  his  warriors  and  his  unambitious  senate 
were  offering  incense,  and  the  new-shed  blood  was 
steaming  warm  on  the  altar.  Soon  as  they  saw  tall 
ships  gliding  towards  them  through  the  shadowy  trees, 
and  plying  the  oar  in  silence,  alarmed  by  the  sudden 
apparition,  each  and  all  start  up  from  the  sacrificial 
board.  Pallas,  bolder  than  the  rest,  bids  them  not 
break  the  sacred  observance,  and  snatching  up  a 
weapon  flies  himself  to  meet  the  strangers,  and  from  a 
height  at  distance,  '  Warriors,'  he  cries,  '  what  cause 
has  led  3'ou  to  venture  on  a  path  yon  know  not  ?  whither 
are  you  bound?  what  is  3^our  nation,  3'our  family?  is  it 
peace  you  bring  us  or  war?'  Then  father  -^neas  be- 
speaks him  thus  from  the  lofty  stern,  stretching  forth 
in  his  hand  a  branch  of  peaceful  olive :  '  These  are 
Trojans  you  see.  These  weapons  mean  hostility  to  the 
Latins,  who  have  driven  us  from  their  land  b}^  a  tjran- 
nous  war.  Our  errand  is  to  Evander.  Take  back  our 
message,  and  say  that  chosen  chiefs  of  Dardan^^  are  at 
his  gate,  praying  for  an  armed  alliance.'  That  mighty 
name  struck  awe  into  Pallas.  '  Disembark,'  he  cries, 
'whoever  3^ou  be,  and  speak  to  m3^  sire  in  person,  and 
come  beneath  our  home-gods'  hospitable  shelter,'  and 
gave  his  hand  in  welcome,  and  clung  to  the  hand  he 
clasped.  They  advance  under  the  shade  of  the  grove, 
and  leave  the  river  behind. 

Then  ^neas  addresses  the  king  with  friendl3^  cour- 
tesy :  '  Best  of  the  sons  of  Greece,  to  whom  it  has 
pleased  Fortune  that  I  should  make  my  pra3^er  and 
stretch  out  boughs  wreathed  with  fillets,  I  felt  no  fear 
for  that  you  were  a  Danaan  leader,  an  Arcadian,  allied 


BOOK   VIIL  319 

by  lineage  with  the  two  sons  of  Atreus  :  I  felt  that  my 
own  worth,  and  the  gods'  hallowed  oracles,  and  the  old 
connection  of  our  ancestry,  and  your  world-wide  fame, 
had  linked  me  to  you,  and  brought  me  before  you 
at  once  by  destiny  and  of  my  own  will.  Dardanus, 
first  father  and  founder  (^  the  town  of  Ilion,  born, 
as  Greeks  tell,  of  Electra,  daughter  of  Atlas,  came 
among  Teucer's  people :  Electra's  father  was  mighty 
Atlas,  he  that  bears  up  on  his  shoulders  the  spheres  of 
heaven.  Your  progenitor  is  Mercury,  whom  beauteous 
Maia  conceived  and  brought  forth  on  Cyllene's  chill 
summit ;  but  Maia,  if  tradition  be  credited,  is  the  child 
of  Atlas,  the  same  Atlas  who  lifts  up  the  stars  of  the 
firmament.  Thus  our  two  races  part  off  from  one  and 
the  same  stock.  Trusting  to  this,  I  sent  no  embassy, 
nor  contrived  the  first  approaches  to  you  by  rule  and 
method :  in  m^'self,  in  my  own  person,  I  haA^e  made 
the  experiment,  and  come  to  your  gate  as  a  suppliant. 
The  same  tribe  which  persecutes  you,  the  Daunians,  is 
now  persecuting  us  with  cruel  war ;  should  they  drive 
us  awa}',  they  foresee  naught  to  hinder  their  subduing 
all  Hesperia  utterly"  to  their  j'oke,  and  mastering  either 
sea,  that  washes  it  above  or  below.  Take  our  friend- 
ship and  give  us  yours.  On  our  side  are  hearts  valiant 
in  war,  and  a  gallant  j'outh  approved  by  adventure.* 

^neas  ended.  Long  ere  this  the  other's  eye  was 
scanning  the  speaker's  countenance  and  e3'es,  and  sur- 
veying his  whole  frame.  Then  he  returns  in  brief: 
'  With  what  joy,  bravest  of  the  Teucrians,  do  I  wel- 
come and  acknowledge  ye  !  how  well  I  call  to  mind  the 
words,  the  voice,  the  look  of  your  sire,  the  great  An- 
chises  !  For  I  remember  how  Priam,  son  of  Laomedon, 
journeying  to  Salamis,  to  see  the  kingdom  of  his  sister 
Hesione,  went  on  to  visit  the  chill  frontier  of  Arcadia. 


320  THE  ^NEID. 

In  those  days  the  first  bloom  of  youth  was  clothing  my 
cheeks.  I  admired  the  Teiicrian  leaders,  I  admired 
Laomedon's  royal  son  ;  but  Anchises'  port  was  nobler 
than  all.  My  mind  kindled  with  a  youth's  ardor  to 
accost  one  so  great,  and  exchange  the  grasp  of  the 
hand.  I  made  my  approach,  and  eagerly  conducted 
him  to  the  walls  of  Pheneus.  On  leaving  he  gave  me 
a  beauteous  quiver  with  Lycian  arrows,  and  a  scarf 
embroidered  with  gold,  and  two  bridles  which  my 
Pallas  has  now,  all  golden.  So  now  I  both  plight  you 
herewith  the  hand  you  ask,  and  soon  as  to-morrow's 
light  shall  restore  to  the  earth  its  blessing,  I  will  send 
you  back  rejoicing  in  an  armed  succor,  and  reinforced 
with  stores.  Meanwhile,  since  you  are  arrived  here  as 
my  friends,  join  in  gladl}'  solemnizing  with  us  this  our 
3'early  celebration,  which  it  were  sin  to  postpone,  and 
accustom  yourselves  thus  early  to  the  hospitalities  of 
your  new  allies.' 

This  said,  he  bids  set  on  again  the  viands  and  the 
cups,  erewhile  removed,  and  himself  places  the  war- 
riors on  a  seat  of  turf,  welcoming  -^neas  in  especial 
grace  with  the  heaped  cushion  of  a  shaggy  lion's  hide, 
and  bidding  him  occup}^  a  throne  of  maple  wood. 
Then  chosen  youths  and  the  priest  of  the  altar  with 
emulous  zeal  bring  in  the  roasted  carcasses  of  bulls, 
pile  up  in  baskets  the  gifts  of  the  corn-goddess  pre- 
pared by  art,  and  serve  the  wine-god  round,  ^neas 
and  the  warriors  of  Troy  with  him  regale  themselves 
on  a  bull's  long  chine  and  on  sacrificial  entrails. 

When  hunger  had  been  quenched  and  appetite  al- 
layed, king  Evander  begins:  'Think  not  that  these 
solemnities  of  ours,  these  ritual  feastings,  this  altar  so 
blessed  in  divine  presence,  have  been  riveted  on  us  by 
idle  superstition,  unknowing  of  the  gods  of  old;  no, 


BOOK   VIIL  821 

guest  of  Troy,  it  is  deliverance  from  cruel  dangers  that 
makes  us  sacrifice  and  pay  again  and  again  worship 
.  where  worship  is  due.  First  of  all  cast  your  eyes  on 
this  rock-hung  crag :  observe  how  the  masses  of  stone 
are  flung  here  and  there,  how  desolate  and  exposed 
stands  the  mountain's  recess,  and  how  the  rocks  have 
left  the  trail  of  a  giant  downfall.  Here  once  was  a 
cave,  retiring  in  enormous  depth,  tenanted  by  a  terrible 
shape,  Cacus,  half  man,  half  brute :  the  sun's  rays 
could  never  pierce  it ;  the  ground  was  always  steaming 
with  fresh  carnage  ;  fixed  to  its  imperious  portals  were 
hanging  human  countenances  ghastlj^  with  hideous  gore. 
This  monster's  father  was  Vulcan :  Vulcan's  were  the 
murky  fires  that  he  disgorged  from  his  mouth  as  he 
towered  along  in  enormous  bulk.  To  us  also  at  length . 
in  our  yearning  need  time  brought  the  arrival  of  a 
divine  helper.  For  the  mightiest  of  avengers,  Alcides, 
triumphing  in  the  slaughter  and  the  spoils  of  the  triple 
Geryon,  was  in  our  land,  ^d  was  driving  by  this  road 
as  a  conqueror  those  giant  oxen,  and  the  cattle  were 
filling  valley  and  river-side.  But  Cacus,  infatuated  b}^ 
fiendish  frenzy,  not  to"  leave  aught  of  crime  or  craft 
undared  or  unessayed,  carries  off  from  the  stalls  four 
bulls  of  goodly  form,  and  heifers  no  fewer  of  surpass- 
ing beaut}'.  And  these,  that  they  might  leave  no 
traces  by  their  forward  motion,  he  dragged  by  the  tail 
to  his  cave,  haled  them  with  reversed  footprints  to  tell 
the  story,  and  so  concealed  them  in  the  dark  rocky  den. 
Thus  the  seeker  found  no  traces  to  lead  him  to  the 
cavern.  Meantime,  when  Amphitryon's  son  was  at 
last  removing  from  their  stalls  his  feasted  herds  and 
preparing  to  quit  the  country,  the  oxen  gave  a  farewell 
low,  filling  the  whole  woodland  with  their  plainings, 
and  taking  clamorous  leave  of  the  hills.  One  of  the 
21 


322  THE  ^NEID, 

heifers  returned  the  sound,  lowing  from  the  depth  of 
the  vast  cavern,  and  thus  baffled  the  hopes  of  her 
jealous  guardian.  Now,  if  ever,  Alcides'  wrath  blazed 
up  from  the  black  choler  of  his  heart ;  he  snatches  up 
his  weapons  and  his  club  with  all  its  weight  of  knots, 
and  makes  at  full  speed  for  the  skye^-  mountain's  height. 
Then  first  the  men  of  our  country  saw  Cacus'  limbs 
tremble  and  his  eyes  quail :  away  he  flies  swifter  than 
the  wind,  and  seeks  his  den  ;  fear  has  winged  his  feet. 
Scarce  had  he  shut  himself  in,  and  let  down  from  its 
burst  fastenings  the  huge  stone,  suspended  there  by  his 
father's  workmanship  in  iron,  and  with  that  barrier 
fortified  his  straining  doorway,  when  lo !  the  hero  of 
Tir3^ns  was  there  in  the  fury  of  his  soul :  scanning 
every  inlet  he  turns  his  face  hither  and  thither,  gnash- 
ing with  his  teeth.  Thrice  in  white  heat  of  wrath  he 
surveys  the  whole  mass  of  Aventine ;  thrice  he  at- 
tempts in  vain  the  stony  portal ;  thrice,  staggering 
from  the  efibrt,  he  sits  down  in  the  hollow.  Before 
him  stood  a  pointed  crag  with  abrupt  rock}-  sides  rising 
over  the  cave  behind,  high  as  the  eye  can  reach,  a 
fitting  home  for  the  nests  of  unclean  and  hateful  birds. 
This,  as  sloping  down  it  inclined  towards  the  river  on 
the  left,  pushing  it  full  on  the  right  he  upheaved  and 
tore  it  loose  from  its  seat,  then  suddenly  sent  it  down, 
with  a  shock  at  which  high  heaven  thunders,  the  banks 
start  apart,  and  the  river  runs  back  in  terror.  Then 
the  cave  and  the  vast  halls  of  Cacus  were  seen  unroofed, 
and  the  dark  recesses  lay  open  to  their  depths  —  even 
as  if  earth,  by  some  mighty  force  laid  open  to  her 
depths,  should  burst  the  doors  of  the  mansions  below, 
and  expose  the  realms  of  ghastly  gloom  which  the  gods 
hate,  and  from  above  the  vast  abyss  were  to  be  seen, 
and  the  specters  dazzled  by  the  influx  of  day.     So  as 


BOOK   VIIL  323 

Cacus  stares  surprised  by  the  sudden  burst  of  light, 
pent  by  the  walls  of  his  cave,  and  roars  in  strange  and 
hideous  sort,  Alcides  from  above  showers  down  his 
darts,  and  calls  every  weapon  to  his  aid,  and  rains  a 
tempest  of  boughs  and  huge  millstones.  But  he,  see- 
ing that  no  hope  of  flight  remains,  vomits  from  his 
throat  huge  volumes  of  smoke,  marvelous  to  tell,  and 
wraps  the  whole  place  in  pitchy  darkness,  blotting  out 
all  prospect  from  the  eyes,  and  in  the  depth  of  the 
cave  masses  a  smothering  night  of  blended  blackness 
and  fire.  The  rage  of  Alcides  brooked  not  this  :  head- 
long he  dashed  through  the  flame,  where  the  smoke 
surges  thickest  and  the  vast  cavern  seethes  with  bil- 
lows of  black  vapor.  Here,  while  Cacus  in  the  heart 
of  the  gloom  is  vomiting  his  helpless  fires  he  seizes 
him,  twines  his  limbs  with  his  own,  and  in  fierce  em- 
brace compresses  his  strangled  e3"eballs  and  his  throat 
now  bloodless  and  dry.  At  once  the  doors  are  burst 
and  the  black  den  laid  bare,  and  the  plundered  oxen, 
the  spoil  that  his  oath  had  disclaimed,  are  exposed  to 
light,  and  the  hideous  carcass  is  dragged  out  by  the 
heels.  The  gazers  look  unsatisfied  on  those  dreadful 
e3^es,  those  grim  features,  the  shaggy  breast  of  the  half 
bestial  monster,  and  the  extinguished  furnace  of  his 
throat.  Since  then  grateful  acknowledgments  have 
been  paid,  and  the  men  of  younger  time  have  joyfully 
observed  the  day:  foremost  among  them  Potitius, 
founder  of  the  ceremony,  and  the  Pinarian  house,  cus- 
todian of  the  worship  of  Hercules.  He  himself  set 
up  in  the  grove  this  altar,  which  shall  ever  be  named 
by  us  the  greatest,  and  shall  ever  be  the  greatest  in 
truth.  Come  then,  warriors,  and  in  honor  of  worth  so 
glorious  wreathe  your  locks  with  leaves  and  present  in 
your  hands  brimming  cups,  and  invoke  our  common 


324  THE  ^NEID. 

deit}^  and  pour  libations  with  gladness  of  heart/  As 
he  ended,  the  white-green  poplar  cast  its  Herculean 
shade  over  his  locks  and  hung  down  with  a  festoon 
of  leaves,  and  the  sacred  goblet  charged  his  hand.  At 
once  all  with  glad  hearts  pour  libations  on  the  board 
and  make  pra3'ers  to  heaven. 

Meantime  evening  is  approaching  nearer  the  slope 
of  heaven,  and  already  the  priests  and  their  chief 
Potitius  were  in  procession,  clad  in  skins  in  ritual  sort, 
and  bearing  fire  in  their  hands.  They  renew  the  solemn 
feast,  and  bring  delicious  offerings  for  a  fresh  repast, 
and  pile  the  altars  with  loaded  chargers.  Then  come 
the  Salii  to  sing  round  about  the  blazing  altars,  their 
temples  wreathed  with  boughs  of  poplar,  a  company 
of  youths  and  another  of  old  men  ;  and  these  extol 
in  song  the  glories  and  deeds  of  Hercules :  how  in  his 
cradle,  by  the  pressure  of  his  young  hand  he  strangled 
his  stepmother's  monstrous  messengers,  the  two  ser- 
pents ;  how  in  war  that  same  hand  dashed  to  pieces 
mighty  cities,  Troy  and  CEchalia ;  how  he  endured 
those  thousand  heavy  labors,  a  slave  to  king  Eurj's- 
theus,  by  ungentle  Juno's  fateful  will.  '  Yes,  thou, 
unconquered  hero,  thou  sla^'est  the  two-formed  chil- 
dren of  the  cloud,  Hylseus  and  Pholus,  thou  slaj'est 
the  portent  of  Crete,  and  the  enormous  lion  that  dwelt 
'neath  Nemea's  rock.  >  Thou  never  quailedst  at  aught 
in  bodily  shape,  no,  noi*  at  Typhoeus  himself,  towering 
high,  weapons  in  hand ;  thy  reason  failed  thee  not 
when  Lerna's  serpent  stood  round  thee  with  all  her 
throng  of  heads.  Hail  to  thee,  authentic  offspring  of 
Jove,  fresh  ornament  of  the  sky?  come  to  us,  come  to 
these  thine  own  rites  with  favoring  smile  and  auspi- 
cious gait.'  Such  things  their  songs  commemorate ; 
and  they  crown  all  with  Cacus'  cave  and  the  fiend  him- 


BOOK  VIII.  325 

self,  the  fire  panting  from  his  lungs.     The  entire  grove 
echoes  with  their  voices,  and  the  hills  rebound. 

The  sacrifice  over,  the  whole  concourse  returns  to 
the  city.  There  walked  the  king,  mossed  over  with 
years,  keeping  at  his  side  ^neas  and  his  son  as  he 
moved  along,  and  lightening  the  way  with  various 
speech,  ^neas  admires,  and  turns  his  quick  glance 
from  sight  to  sight :  each  scene  enthralls  him ;  and 
with  eager  zest  he  inquires  and  learns  one  by  one  the 
records  of  men  of  old.  Then  spoke  king  Evander, 
the  builder  of  Rome's  tower-crowned  hill :  '  These 
woodlands  were  first  inhabited  by  native  Fauns  and 
Nymphs,  and  by  a  race  of  men  that  sprung  from 
trunks  of  trees  and  hard  oaken  core ;  no  rule  of  life, 
no  culture  had  they :  they  never  learned  to  3^oke  the 
ox,  nor  to  hive  their  stores,  nor  to  husband  what 
they  got ;  the  boughs  and  the  chase  supplied  their  sav- 
age sustenance.  The  first  change  came  from  Saturn, 
who  arrived  from  skyey  Olympus,  flying  from  the  arms 
of  Jove,  a  realmless  exile.  He  brought  together  the 
race,  untamed  as  they  were  and  scattered  over  moun- 
tain heights,  and  gave  them  laws,  and  chose  for  the 
country  the  name  of  Latium,  because  he  had  found 
it  a  safe  hiding-place.  The  golden  age  of  story  was 
when  he  was  king,  so  calm  and  peaceful  his  rule  over 
his  people ;  till  gradually  there  crept  in  a  race  of 
worse  grain  and  duller  hue,  and  the  frenzy  of  war, 
and  the  greed  of  having.  Then  came  the  host  of 
Ausonia  and  the  Sicanian  tribes,  and  again  and  again 
Saturn's  land  changed  its  name ;  then  came  king  after 
king,  savage  Thybris  with  his  giant  bulk,  from  whom ' 
in  after  days  we  Italians  called  the  river  Tiber :  the 
authentic  name  of  ancient  Albula  was  lost.  Myself, 
an  exile  from  my  country,  while  voyaging  to  the  ends 


326  THE  ^NEID. 

of  the  sea,  all-powerful  Fortune  and  inevitable  Destiny 
planted  here ;  at  my  back  were  the  awful  bests  of  my 
mother,  the  nymph  Carmentis,  and  the  divine  sanction 
of  Apollo.'  Scarce  had  he  finished,  when  moving  on 
he  points  out  the  altar  and  the  Carmental  gate,  as  the 
Romans  call  it,  their  ancient  tribute  to  the  nymph 
Carmentis,  the  soothsaying  seer,  who  first  told  of  the 
future  greatness  of  -Eneas'  sons  and  of  the  glories 
of  Pallanteum.  Next  he  points  out  a  mighty  grove, 
which  fiery  Romulus  made  the  As3^1um  of  a  later  day, 
and  embowered  by  the  chill  dank  rock,  the  Lupercal, 
bearing  after  Arcadian  wont  the  name  of  Lycaean  Pan. 
He  shows,  moreover,  the  forest  of  hallowed  Argiletum, 
and  appeals  to  the  spot,  and  recounts  the  death  of 
Argus,  once  his  guest.  Thence  he  leads  the  way  to 
the  Tarpeian  temple,  even  the  Capitol,  now  gay  with 
gold,  then  rough  with  untrimmed  brushwood.  Even 
in  that  day  the  sacred  terrors  of  the  spot  awed  the 
trembling  rustics ;  even  then  they  shuddered  at  the 
forest  and  the  rock.  '  This  wood,'  he  says,  '  this 
hill  with  the  shaggy  brow,  is  the  home  of  a  god  of 
whom  we  know  not ;  my  Arcadians  believe  that  they 
have  seen  there  great  Jove  himself,  oft  and  oft,  shaking 
with  his  right  hand  the  shadowy  JEgis  and  calling  up 
the  storm.  Here,  too,  in  these  two  towns,  with  their 
ramparts  overthrown,  you  see  the  relics  and  the  chron- 
icles of  bygone  ages.  This  tower  was  built  by  father 
Janus,  that  by  Saturn ;  the  one's  name  Janiculum, 
the  other's  Saturnia.'  So  talking  together  thej^  came 
nigh  the  palace  where  Evander  dwells  in  poverty,  and 
saw  cattle  all  about  lowing  in  the  Roman  forum  and 
Carinae*s  luxurious  precinct.  When  they  reached  the 
gate,  '  This  door,'  said  the  host,  '  Alcidee  in  his 
triumph  stooped  to  enter ;  this  mansion  contained  his 


BOOK   VHL  327 

presence.  Nerve  yourself,  my  guest,  to  look  down 
on  riches,  and  make  your  own  soul,  like  his,  such  as  a 
god  would  not  disdain,  and  take  in  no  churlish  sort 
the  welcome  of  poverty.'  He  said,  and  beneath  the 
slope  of  his  narrow  roof  ushered  in  the  great  ^neas, 
and  laid  him  to  rest  on  a  couch  of  leaves  and  the  skin 
of  a  Libyan  bear. 

Down  comes  the  night,  and  flaps  her  sable  wings 
over  the  earth.  But  Venus,  distracted,  and  not  idly, 
with  a  mother's  cares,  disturbed  by  the  menaces  of  the 
Laurentines  and  the  violence  of  the  gathering  storm, 
addresses  Vulcan,  and  in  the  nuptial  privacy  of  their 
golden  chamber  begins  her  speeclL  breathing  in  every 
tone  the  love  that  gods  feel :  '  In  old  days  of  war, 
while  the  Argive  kings  were  desolating  Pergamus, 
their  destined  prey,  and  ravaging  the  towers  which 
were  doomed  to  hostile  fire,  no  help  for  the  sufferers, 
no  arms  of  thj'  resourceful  workmanship  did  I  ask ; 
no,  my  dearest  lord,  I  chose  not  to  task  thee  and  thy 
efforts  to  no  end,  large  as  was  m}'  debt  to  the  sons 
of  Priam,  and  man}^  the  tears  that  I  shed  for  JEneas' 
cruel  agon3\  Now,  by  Jove's  commands,  he  has  set 
his  foot  on  Rutulian  soil ;  so,  with  the  past  in  m}" 
mind,  I  appear  as  a  suppliant,  to  ask  of  his  power 
whom  I  honor  most,  as  a  mother  may,  armor  for  my 
son.  Thee  the  daughter  of  Nereus,  thee  the  spouse 
of  Tithonus,  found  accessible  to  tears.  See  but  what 
nations  are  mustering,  what  cities  are  closing  the 
gate  and  pointing  the  steel  against  me  and  the  lives 
I  love.'  The  speech  was  ended,  and  the  goddess  is 
fondling  her  undecided  lord  on  all  sides  in  the  soft 
embrace  of  her  snowy  arms.  Suddenly  he  caught  the 
wonted  fire,  the  well-known  heat  shot  to  his  vitak  and 
threaded  his  melting  frame,  even  as  on  a  day  when 


328  THE  MNEID. 

the  fiery  rent  burst  by  the  thunderclap  i-uns  with  gleam- 
ing flash  along  the  veil  of  cloud.  His  spouse  saw  the 
triumph  of  her  art  and  felt  what  beauty  can  do.  Then 
spoke  the  stern  old  god,  subdued  by  everlasting  love  : 
'Why  fetch  your  excuses  from  so  far?  whither,  my 
queen,  has  fled  your  old  affiance  in  me  ?  had  you  then 
been  as  anxious,  even  in  those  old  days  it  had  been 
allowed  to  give  arms  to  the  Trojans;  nor  was  the 
almighty  sire  nor  the  destinies  unwilling  that  Troy 
should  stand  and  Priam  remain  in  life  for  ten  years 
more.  And  now,  if  war  is  your  object  and  so  your 
purpose  holds,  all  the  care  that  it  lies  within  my  art  to 
promise,  what  can  Jdc  wrought  out  of  iron  and  molten 
electrum,  as  far  as  fire  can  burn  and  wind  blow  — 
cease  to  show  by  entreaty  that  you  mistrust  your 
power.*  This  said,  he  gave  the  embrace  she  longed 
for,  and  falling  on  the  bosom  of  his  spouse  wooed  the 
calm  of  slumber  in  every  limb. 

Then,  soon  as  rest,  first  indulged,  had  driven  sleep 
away,  when  flying  night  had  run  half  her  course  ;  just 
when  a  woman,  compelled  to  support  life  bj^  spinning, 
even  by  Pallas*  slender  craft,  wakes  to  light  the  fire 
that  slumbered  in  the  embers,  adding  night  to  her  day's 
work,  and  keeps  her  handmaids  laboring  long  by  the 
blaze,  all  that  she  may  preserve  her  husband's  bed  un- 
sullied, and  bring  up  his  infant  sons  ;  even  so  the  lord  of 
fire,  at  an  hour  not  less  slothful,  rises  from  his  couch  of 
down  to  the  toils  of  the  artisan.  There  rises  an  island 
hard  by  the  Sicanian  coast  and  JEolian  Lipari,  tower- 
ing with  fier}^  mountains  ;  beneath  it  thunders  a  cavern, 
the  den  of  JEtna,  blasted  out  by  Cyclop  forges ;  the 
sound  of  mightv  blows  echoes  on  anvils  :  the  smeltings 
of  the  Chalj^bes  hiss  through  its  depths,  and  the  fire 
pants  from  the  jaws  of  the  furnace  ;  it  is  the  abode  of 


BOOK   VIIL  329 

Vulcan,  and  the  land  bears  Vulcan's  name.  Hither, 
then,  the  lord  of  fire  descends  from  heaven's  height. 
There,  in  the  enormous  den,  the  Cyclops  were  forging 
the  iron,  Brontes,  and  Steropes,  and  Pyracmon,  the 
naked  giant.  In  their  hands  was  the  rough  cast  of  the 
thunderbolt,  one  of  those  many  which  the  great  Father 
showers  down  on  earth  from  all  quarters  of  heaven  — 
part  was  polished  for  use,  part  still  incomplete.  Three 
spokes  of  frozen  rain,  three  of  watery  cloud  had  they 
put  together,  three  of  ruddy  flame  and  winged  southern 
wind  ;  and  now  they  were  blending  with  what  they  had 
done  the  fearful  flash,  and  the  noise,  and  the  terror, 
and  the  fury  of  untiring  fire.  In  another  part  they 
were  hurrying  on  for  Mars  the  car  and  the  flying  wheels, 
with  which  he  rouses  warriors  to  madness,  ay,  and 
whole  cities ;  and  with  emulous  zeal  were  making 
bright  with  golden  serpent  scales  the  terrible  -^gis, 
the  armor  of  angry  Pallas,  snakes  wreathed  together, 
and  full  on  the  breast  of  the  goddess  the  Gorgon  her- 
self, her  neck  severed  and  her  e3'es  rolling.  '  Away 
with  all  this,'  cries  the  god  ;  '  take  your  unfinished  tasks 
elsewhere,  you  Cyclops  of  JEtna,  and  give  your  atten- 
tion here.  Arms  are  wanted  for  a  fiery  warrior.  Now 
is  the  call  for  power,  now  for  swiftness  of  hand,  now 
for  all  that  art  can  teach.  Turn  delay  into  dispatch/ 
No  more  he  said  ;  but  they  with  speed  put  their  shoul- 
der to  the  work,  sharing  it  in  equal  parts.  Copper 
flows  in  streams  and  golden  ore,  and  steel,  that  knows 
how  to  wound,  is  molten  in  the  huge  furnace.  They 
set  up  in  outline  a  mighty  shield,  itself  singl}^  matched 
against  all  the  Latian  weapons,  and  tangle  together 
seven  plates,  circle  and  circle.  Some  with  their  gasp- 
ing bellows  are  taking  in  and  giving  out  the  wind; 
others  are  dipping  the  hissing  copper  in  the  lake.     The 


330  THE  JSNEID. 

cave  groans  under  the  anvil's  weight.     The}',  one  with 
another,  with  all  a  giant's  strength,  are  lifting   their 
arms  in  measured  cadence,  and  turning  with  their  grii> 
C^in        ing  tongs  the  oar  on  this  side  and  on  that. 

While  the  father  of  Lemnos  makes  this  dispatch  on 
the  ^olian  shores,  Evander  is  roused  from  his  lowly 
dwelUng  by  the  genial  light  and  the  morning  songs  of 
birds  under  the  eaves.  Up  rises  the  old  man,  and 
draws  a  tunic  over  his  frame,  and  puts  Tyrrhenian 
sandals  round  his  feet ;  next  he  fastens  from  below  to 
side  and  shoulder  a  sword  from  Tegea,  flinging  back 
over  him  a  panther's  hide  that  drooped  from  the  left. 
Moreover,  two  guardian  dogs  go  before  him  from  his 
palace  door,  and  attend  their  master's  steps.  So  he 
made  his  way  to  the  lodging  of  his  guest,  and  sought 
Eneas'  privacy,  their  discourse  of  yesterday  and  the 
gift  then  promised  fresh  in  his  heroic  soul.  JEneas 
likewise  was  astir  not  less  early.  This  had  his^  son 
Pallas,  that  had  Achates  walking  by  his  side.  The}' 
meet,  and  join  hand  in  hand,  and  sit  them  down  in  the 
midst  of  the  mansion,  and  at  last  enjoy  the  privilege  of 
mutual  talk.     The  king  begins  as  follows  ;  — 

'  Mightiest  leader  of  the  Teucrians,  whom  while 
heaven  preserves  I  shall  never  own  that  Troy's  powers 
are  vanquished  or  her  realm  overturned,  we  ourselves 
have  but  small  means  of  martial  aid  to  back  our  great 
name ;  on  this  side  we  are  bounded  by  the  Tuscan 
river :  on  that  our  Rutulian  foe  beleaguers  us,  and 
thunders  in  arms  around  our  walls.  But  I  have  a 
mighty  nation,  a  host  with  ah  imperial  heritage,  which 
I  am  ready  to  unite  with  you  —  a  gleam  of  safety  re- 
vealed b}^  unexpected  chance.  •It  is  at  the  summons 
of  destiny  that  you  bend  your  steps  thither.  Not  far 
hence,  built  of  ancient  stone,  is  the  inhabited  city  of 


BOOK   VIIL  331 

Agylla,  where  of  old  the  Lydian  nation,  renowned  in 
war,  took  its  seat  on  Etruscan  mountains.  This  city, 
after  long  and  prosperous  years,  was  held  b}^  king 
Mezentius,  by  stress  of  tyrant  rule  and  the  terror  of 
the  sword.  Why  should  I  recount  the  despot's  dread- 
ful murders  and  all  his  savage  crimes  ?  may  the  gods 
preserve  them  in  mind,  and  bring  them  on  his  own  head 
and  his  family's !  Nay,  he  would  even  link  together 
the  dead  and  the  living,  coupling  hand  with  hand  and 
face  with  face  —  so  inventive  is  the  lust  of  torture  — 
and  in  the  slime  and  poison  of  that  sickening  embrace 
would  destroy  them  thus  b}^  a  lingering  dissolution.  At 
last,  wearied  by  oppression,  his  subjects  in  arms  be- 
siege the  frantic  monster  himself  and  his  palace,  slay 
his  retainers,  shower  firebrands  on  his  roof.  He,  mid 
the  carnage,  escapes  to  Rutulian  territorj',  and  shelters 
himself  under  Turnus'  friendly  power.  So  all  Etruria 
has  risen  in  righteous  wrath ;  at  once,  at  the  sword's 
point,  they  demand  that  the  king  be  surrendered  to 
their  vengeance.  Of  these  thousands,  ^neas,  I  will 
make  you  general.  For  along  the  seaboard's  length 
their  ships  are  swarming  and  panting  for  the  fra}',  and 
calling  on  the  trumpet  to  sound,  while  an  aged  sooth- 
sayer is  holding  them  back  by  his  faithful  utterance : 
"  Chosen  warriors  of  Maeonian  land,  the  power  and 
soul  of  an  ancient  nation,  whom  just  resentment 
launches  against  the  foe  and  Mezentius  inflames  with 
righteous  fury,  no  Italian  may  take  the  reins  of  a  race 
so  proud  :  choose  foreigners  to  lead  3'ou.'*  At  this  the 
Etruscan  army  settled  down  on  yonder  plain,  awed  by 
the  heaventy  warning.  Tarchon  himself  has  sent  me 
ambassadors  with  the  royal  crown  and  scepter,  and 
given  to  my  hands  the  ensigns  of  power,  bidding  me 
join  the  camp,  and  assume  the  Tyrrhene  throne.    But 


332  THE  ^NEID. 

age,  with  its  enfeebling  chill  and  the  exhaustion  of  its 
long  term  of  years,  grudges  me  the  honor  of  command ; 
my  day  of  martial  prowess  is  past.  Fain  would  I  en- 
courage my  son  to  the  task,  but  that  the  blood  of  a 
Sabine  mother  blending  with  mine  makes  his  race  half 
Italian.  You,  in  years  and  in  race  alike  the  object 
of  Fate's  indulgence  —  you,  the  chosen  one  of  Heaven 
—  assume  the  place  that  waits  you,  gallant  general 
of  Teucrians  and  Italians  both.  Nay,  I  will  give  3^ou, 
too,  Pallas  here,  the  hope  and  solace  of  my  age ; 
under  your  tutelage  let  him  learn  to  endure  military 
service  and  the  war-god's  strenuous  labors ;  let  3'our 
actions  be  Kis  pattern,  and  his  young  admiration  be 
centered  on 'you.  To  him  I  will  give  two  hundred 
Arcadian  horsemen,  the  flower  of  my  chivalry,  and 
Pallas  in  his  own  name  shall  give  you  as  many  more.' 
Scarce  had  his  words  been  uttered  —  and  the  twain 
were  holding  their  e3'es  in  downcast  thought,  JEneas 
Anchises'  son  and  true  Achates,  brooding  each  with  his 
own  sad  heart  on  man}'  a  peril,  had  not  Cythera's  god- 
dess sent  a  sign  from  the  clear  sky.  For  unforeseen, 
flashed  from  the  heaven,  comes  a  glare  and  a  peal,  and 
all  around  seemed  crashing  down  at  once,  and  the  clang 
of  the  Tyrrhene  trumpet  appeared  to  blare  through 
ether.  They  look  up  :  a  second  and  a  third  time  cracks 
the  enormous  sound.  Armor  enveloped  in  a  cloud  in  a 
clear  quarter  of  the  firmament  is  seen  to  flash  redly  in 
the  sunlight  and  to  ring  as  clashed  together.  The  rest 
were  all  amazement ;  but  the  Trojan  hero  recognized 
the  sound  and  in  it  the  promise  of  his  goddess  mother. 
Then  he  cries :  '  Nay,  my  host,  na}^,  ask  not  in  sooth 
what  chance  these  wonders  portend  ;  it  is  I  that  have  a 
call  from  on  high.  This  was  the  sign  that  the  goddess 
who  gave  me  birth  foreshowed  me  that  she  would  send, 


BOOK  VIIL  333 

should  the  attack  of  war  come,  while  she  would  bring 
through  the  air  armor  from  Vulcan  for  my  help.  Alas  ! 
how  vast  the  carnage  ready  to  burst  on  Laurentum's 
wretched  sons !.  what  vengeance,  Turnus,  shall  be  mine 
from  thee !  how  man}-  a  warrior's  shield  and  helm  and 
stalwart  frame  shalt  thou  toss  beneath  thy  waters, 
father  Tiber!  Ay,  clamor  for  battle,  and  break  your 
plighted  word ! ' 

Thus  having  said,  he  rises  from  his  lofty  seat,  and 
first  of  all  quickens  the  altars  where  the  Herculean  fires 
were  smoldering,  and  with  glad  heart  approaches  the 
hearth-god  of  3'esterday,  and  the  small  household  powers; 
duly  they  sacrifice  chosen  sheep,  Evander  for  his  part 
and  the  Trojan  jouth  for  theirs.  Next  he  moves  on  to 
the  ships  and  revisits  his  crew :  from  whose  number  he 
chooses  men  to  follow  him  to,  the  war,  eminent  in  valor : 
the  rest  are  wafted  down  the  stream  and  float  lazily 
along  with  the  current  at  their  back,  to  bring  Ascanius 
news  of  his  father  and  his  fortunes.  Horses  are  given 
to  the  Teucrians  who  are  seeking  the  Tyrrhene  territory, 
and  one  is  led  along,  reserved  for  JEneas ;  a  tawny 
lion's  hide  covers  it  wholly,  gleaming  forth  with  talons 
of  gold. 

At  once  flies  rumor,  blazed  through  the  little  citj% 
that  the  horsemen  are  marching  with  speed  to  the  gates 
of  the  TjTrhene  king.  In  alarm  the  matrons  redouble 
their  vows  ;  fear  treads  on  the  heels  of  danger,  and  the 
features  of  the  war-god  loom  larger  on  the  view.  Then 
Evander,  clasping  the  hand  of  his  departing  son,  hangs 
about  him  with  tears  that  never  have  their  fill,  and 
speaks  like  this ;  '  Ah !  would  but  Jupiter  bring  back 
my  bygone  years,  and  make  me  what  I  was  when  under 
Prseneste's  very  walls  I  struck  down  the  first  rank  and 
set  a  conqueror's  torch  to  piles  of  shields,  and  with  this 


334  THE  ^NEID, 

my  hand  sent  down  to  Tartarus  king  Erulus,  whom  at 
his  birth  his  mother  Feronia  endowed  with  three  lives 
—  fearful  to  tell  — and  a  frame  that  could  thrice  bear 
arms :  thrice  had  he  to  be  struck  down  in  death :  yet 
from  him  on  that  day  this  hand  took  all  those  three 
lives,  and  thrice  stripped  that  armor  —  never  should  I, 
as  now,  be  torn,  my  son,  from  your  loved  embrace. 
Never  would  Mezentius  have  laid  dishonor  on  a  neigh- 
bor's crest,  dealt  with  his  sword  that  repeated  havoc, 
and  bereaved  my  city  of  so  many  of  her  sons.  But  you, 
great  powers  above,  and  thou,  Jupiter,  mightiest  ruler 
of  the  gods,  have  pity,  I  implore  you,  on  an  Arcadian 
monarch,  and  give  ear  to  a  father's  pra3^er ;  if  your 
august  will,  if  destiny  has  in  store  for  me  the  safe  re- 
turn of  my  Pallas,  if  life  will  make  me  see  him  and 
meet  him  once  more,  then  I  pray  that  I  may  live ; 
there  is  no  trial  I  cannot  bear  to  outlast.  But  if  thou, 
dark  Fortune,  threatenest  any  unnamed  calamit}^,  now, 
oh,  now,  be  it  granted  me  to  snap  life's  ruthless  thread, 
while  care  wears  a  double  face,  while  hope  cannot  spell 
the  future,  while  you,  darling  boy,  my  love  and  late 
delight,  are  still  in  m}^  arms  :  nor  let  m}"  ears  be  pierced 
by  tidings  more  terrible.'  So  was  the  father  heard  to 
speak  at  their  last  parting ;  his  servants  were  seen 
carrying  within  doors  their  fallen  lord. 

And  now  the  cavalry  had  passed  the  city's  open 
gates,  -^neas  among  the  first  and  true  Achates,  and 
after  them  the  other  Trojan  nobles  ;  Pallas  himself  the 
center  of  the  column,  conspicuous  with  gay  scarf  and 
figured  armor ;  even  as  the  morning-star  just  bathed  in 
the  waves  of  the  ocean,  Venus'  favorite  above  all  the 
stellar  fires,  sets  in  a  moment  on  the  sky  his  heavenlj' 
countenance,  and  melts  the  darkness.  There  are  the 
trembUng  matrons  standing  on  the  walls,  following  with 


BOOK  VIII.  335 

their  eyes  the  cloud  of  dust  and  the  gleam  of  the  brass- 
clad  companies.  They  in  their  armor  are  moving 
through  the  underwood,  their  eye  on  the  nearest  path : 
hark  !  a  shout  mounts  up,  a  column  is  formed,  and  the 
four-foot  beat  of  the  hoof  shakes  the  crumbling  plain. 
Near  the  cool  stream  of  Caere  stands  a  vast  grove, 
clothed  by  hereditary  reverence  with  wide-spread  sanc- 
tit}' ;  on  all  sides  it  is  shut  in  by  the  hollows  of  hills, 
which  encompass  its  dark  pine- wood  shades.  Rumor 
says  that  the  old  Pelasgians  dedicated  it  to  Silvanus, 
god  of  the  country  and  the  cattle,  a  grove  with  a  holi- 
day —  the  people  who  once  in  early  times  dwelt  on  the 
Latian  frontier.  Not  far  from  this  Tarchon  and  the 
Tyrrhenians  were  encamped  in  a  sheltered  place,  and 
from  the  height  of  the  hill  their  whole  army  spread  al- 
ready to  the  view,  as  they  pitched  at  large  over  the 
plain.  Hither  come  father  JEneas  and  the  chosen  com- 
pany of  warriors,  and  refresh  the  weariness  of  them- 
selves and  their  steeds. 

But  Venus  had  come  in  her  divine  beauty  through  the 
dark  clouds  of  heaven  with  the  gifts  in  her  hand,  and 
soon  as  she  saw  her  son  far  retired  in  the  vale  in  the 
privacy  of  the  cool  stream,  she  thus  accosted  him,  ap- 
pearing suddenly  before  him  :  'See,  here  is  the  present 
completed  by  my  lord's  promised  skill :  now  you  will 
not  need  to  hesitate  to-morrow  about  daring  to  the 
combat  the  haughty  Laurentians  or  fiery  Turnus'  self.' 
So  said  the  lady  of  Cythera,  and  sought  her  son's  em- 
brace :  the  arms  she  set  up  to  glitter  under  an  oak  that 
faced  his  view.  He,  exulting  in  the  goddess'  gifts,  and 
charmed  with  their  dazzling  beauty,  cannot  feast  his 
eyes  enough  as  he  rolls  them  from  point  to  point,  ad- 
miring and  turning  over  in  his  hands  and  arms  the 
helmet  with  its  dread  crest,  vomiting  flaine,  the  fateful 


336  THE  MNEID. 

sword,  the  stiff  brazen  corselet,  blood-red  and  huge, 
in  hue  as  when  a  dark  cloud  kindles  with  sunlight  and 
gleams  afar;  the  polished  cuishes,  too,  of  electrum  and 
gold  smelted  oft  and  oft,  and  the  spear,  and  the  shield's 
ineffable  frame- work.  On  this  was  the  story  of  Italy 
and  the  triumphs  of  the  Romans  wrought  by  the  Lord 
of  the  Fire ;  no  stranger  he  to  prophecy  nor  ignorant 
of  the  time  to  come:  on  it  was  the  whole  royal  line  of 
the  future  from  Ascanius  onward,  and  their  foughten 
fields  in  long  succession.  There,  too,  he  had  portrayed 
the  mother- wolf  stretched  in  Mars'  green  cavern; 
around  her  teats  were  the  twin  boys  in  play  climbing 
and  clinging,  and  licking  their  dam  .without  dread ; 
while  she,  her  lithe  neck  bent  back,  was  caressing 
them  by  turns  and  with  her  tongue  shaping  their  young 
limbs.  Near  this  he  had  inserted  Rome  and  the  law- 
less rape  of  the  Sabine  maidens  amid  the  crowded 
circus,  while  the  great  games  were  in  course,  and  the 
sudden  rise  of  a  new  war  between  the  sons  of  Romu- 
lus and  ancient  Tatius  with  his  austere  Cures.  After- 
wards were  seen  the  two  kings,  the  conflict  set  at  rest, 
standing  in  arms  before  the  altar  Jdi  Jove  with  goblets 
in  their  hands  and  cementing  a  treaty  with  swine's 
blood.  Not  far  off  Mettus  had  already  been  torn 
asunder  by  the  chariots  driven  apart  —  ah!  false  Al- 
ban,  were  you  but  a  keeper  of  your  word !  —  and 
TuUus  was  dragging  the  traitor's  flesh  through  the 
woodland,  while  the  bushes  were  sprinkled  with  the 
bloody  rain.  There,  too,  was  Porsenna  insisting  that 
exiled  Tarquin  should  be  taken  back  and  leaguering 
the  city  with  a  mighty  siege :  Eneas'  sons  were  fling- 
ing themselves  on  the  sword  in  freedom's  cause.  In 
his  face  might  be  seen  the  likeness  of  wrath,  and  the 
likeness  of  menace,  that  Codes  should  have  the  cour- 


BOOK   VIIL  337 

age  to  tear  down  the  bridge,  that  Cloelia  should  break 
her  prison  and  swim  the  river.  There  was  Manlius 
standing  sentinel  on  the  summit  of  the  Tarpeian  for- 
tress in  the  temple's  front,  holding  the  height  of  the 
Capitol,  while  the  Romulean  thatch  looked  fresh  and 
sharp  on  the  palace-roof.  And  there  was  the  silver 
goose  fluttering  its  wings  in  the  gilded  cloister  and 
shrieking  that  the  Gauls  were  at  the  door.  The  Gauls 
were  at  hand  marching  among  the  brushwood,  and  had 
gained  the  summit  sheltered  by  the  darkness  and  the 
kindlj'  grace  of  dusky  night.  Golden  is  their  hair 
and  golden  their  raiment ;  striped  cloaks  gleam  on 
their  shoulders  ;  their  milk-white  necks  are  twined  with 
gold ;  each  brandishes  two  Alpine  javelins,  his  body 
guarded  by  the  long  oval  of  his  shield.  There  he  had 
shown  in  relief  the  Salii  in  their  dances  and  the  naked 
Luperci,  and  the  W00II3'  peaks  of  their  caps,  and  the 
sacred  shields  which  fell  from  heaven :  chaste  matrons 
were  making  solemn  progress  through  the  city  in  their 
soft-cushioned  cars.  At  distance  from  these  he  intro- 
duces too  the  mansions  of  Tartarus,  Pluto's  j-awning 
portals,  and  the  torments  of  crime,  and  thee,  Catiline, 
poised  on  the  beetling  rock  and  quaiUng  at  grim  Fury- 
faces  ;  and  the  good  in  their  privacy,  with  Cato  as  their 
lawgiver.  Stretching  in  its  breadth  among  these  swept 
the  semblance  of  the  swelling  sea,  all  of  gold,  but  the 
blue  was  made  to  foam  with  whitening  billows ;  and 
all  about  it  dolphins  of  bright  silver  in  joyous  circles 
were  lashing  the  surface  with  their  tails  and  cutting 
the  tide.  In  the  midst  might  be  seen  fleets  of  brazen 
ships,  the  naval  war  of  Actium ;  you  might  remark 
the  whole  of  Leucate  aglow  with  the  war-god's  array, 
and  the  waves  one  blaze  of  gold^  On  this  side  is 
Augustus  Caesar  leading  the  Italians  to  conflict,  with 
22 


338  THE  jENEID. 

the  senate  and  the  people,  the  home-gods  and  their 
mighty  brethren,  standing  aloft  on  the  stern:  his 
auspicious  brows  emit  twin-born  flames,  and  his  an- 
cestral star  dawns  over  his  head.  Elsewhere  is  Agrip- 
pa  with  the  winds  and  the  gods  at  his  back,  towering 
high  as  he  leads  his  column  ;  his  brows  gleam  with  the 
beaked  circle  of  a  naval  crown,  the  glorious  ornament 
of  war.  On  that  side  is  Antonius  with  his  barbaric 
powers  and  the  arms  of  divers  lands,  triumphant  from 
the  nations  of  the  dawn-goddess  and  the  red  ocean's 
coast,  carrying  with  him  Egypt  and  the  strength  of  the 
East  and  the  utmost  parts  of  Bactria,  and  at  his  side 
—  shame  on  the  profanation  !  —  his  Egyptian  spouse. 
All  are  seen  at  once  in  fierce  onward  motion:  the 
whole  sea-floor  foams  up,  torn  by  the  backward  pull 
of  the  oars  and  by  the  three-fanged  beaks.  On  to  the 
deep !  5"ou  would  deem  that  uprooted  Cyclades  were 
swimming  the  sea,  or  that  tall  hills  were  meeting  hills 
in  battle  ;  such  the  giant  effort  with  which  the  warriors 
urge  on  their  tower-crowned  ships.  From  the  hand  is 
scattered  a  shower  of  flaming  tow  and  flying  steel :  the 
plains  of  Neptune  redden  with  unwonted  carnage.  In 
the  midst  of  them  the  queen  is  cheering  on  her  forces 
with  the  timbrel  of  her  native  land ;  casting  as  yet  no 
glance  on  the  twin-born  snakes  that  threaten  her  rear. 
There  are  the  portentous  gods  of  all  the  nations,  and 
Anubis  the  barking  monster,  brandishing  their  weapons 
in  the  face  of  Neptune  and  Venus  and  in  the  face  of 
Pallas.  Midmost  in  the  fray  storms  Mavors,  relieved 
in  iron,  and  fell  Fur3^-fiends  swooping  from  the  sky; 
and  Discord  sweeps  along  in  the  glory  of  her  rent 
mantle,  and  at  her  back  Bellona  with  blood-dropping 
scourge.  There  was  Actium's  Apollo,  with  his  eye  on 
the  fray,  bending  his  bow  from  above  ;  at  whose  terror 


BOOK  VIII.  339 

all  Eg3'pt  and  Ind,  all  Arabia,  all  the  sons  of  Saba 
were  turning  the  back  in  flight.  The  queen  herself  was 
shown  spreading  her  sails  to  friendly  breezes,  and  just 
loosing  the  sheets.  On  her  face  the  Lord  of  the  Fire 
had  written  the  paleness  of  foreshadowed  death,  as  she 
drove  on  among  corpses  before  the  tide  and  the  zephjT ; 
over  against  her  was  Nile,  his  vast  body  writhing  in 
woe,  throwing  open  his  bosom,  and  with  his  whole  flow- 
ing raiment  inviting  the  vanquished  to  his  green  lap  and 
his  sheltering  flood.  But  Caesar,  entering  the  walls  of 
Rome  in  threefold  triumph,  was  consecrating  to  the 
gods  of  Italy  a  votive  tribute  of  deathless  gratitude, 
three  hundred  mightj^  fanes  the  whole  city  through. 
The  ways  were  ringing  with  gladness  and  with  games 
and  with  plausive  peal ;  in  every  temple  thronged  a 
matron  company,  in  every  temple  an  altar  blazed ;  in 
front  of  the  altars  slaughtered  bullocks  strewed  the 
floor.  The  hero  himself,  throned  on  dazzling  Phoebus' 
snow-white  threshold,  is  telling  over  the  offerings  of 
all  the  nations  and  hanging  them  up  on  the  proud 
temple  gates;  there  in  long  procession  move  the  con- 
quered peoples,  diverse  in  tongue,  diverse  no  less  in 
garb  and  in  armor.  Here  had  Mulciber  portrayed  the 
Nomad  race  and  the  zoneless  sons  of  Afric :  here,  too, 
Leleges  and  Carians  and  quivered  Gelonians :  Eu- 
phrates was  flowing  with  waves  subdued  already ;  and 
the  Morini,  furthest  of  mankind,  and  Rhine  with  his 
crescent  horn,  and  tameless  Dahae,  and  Araxes  chafing 
to  be  bridged.  Such  sights  ^neas  scans  with  wonder 
on  Vulcan's  shield,  his  mother's  gift,  and  joys  in  the 
portraiture  of  things  he  knows  not,  as  he  heaves  on  his 
shoulder  the  fame  and  the  fate  of  grandsons  yet  to  be. 


340  THE  ^NEID, 


BOOK  IX. 

While  these  things  are  in  progress  far  away,  Juno, 
Saturn's  daughter,  has  sent  down  Iris  from  above  on 
an  errand  to  Turnus  the  bold.  It  chanced  that  then 
Turnus  was  sitting  in  the  grove  of  his  sire  Pihimnus, 
deep  in  the  hallowed  dell.  Him  then  the  child  of 
Thaumas  bespoke  thus  from  Wier  rosy  lips :  '  Turnus, 
what  no  god  would  have  dared  to  promise  to  your 
prayers,  lo  !  the  mere  lapse  of  time  has  brought  to  j'ou 
unasked,  ^neas,  leaving  behind  town,  comrades,  and 
fleet,  is  gone  to  seek  the  realm  of  the  Palatine,  the  set- 
tlement of  Evander.  Nor  is  that  all :  he  has  won  his 
way  to  Corythus'  farthest  towns,  and  is  arming  the 
Lydian  bands,  the  crowds  of  country  folk.  Why  hesi- 
tate ?  now,  now  is  the  moment  to  call  for  horse  and 
car ;  fling  delay  to  the  winds,  and  come  down  on  the 
bewildered  camp.'  So  saying,,  she  raised  herself  aloft 
on  the  poise  of  her  wings,  and  drew  as  she  fled  along 
the  clouds  her  mighty  bow.  The  warrior  knew  his 
visitant,  lifted  his  two  hands  to  heaven,  and  pursued 
her  flight  with  words  like  these  :  '  Iris,  fair  glory  of  the 
sky,  who  has  sent  thee  down  from  heaven  to  earth  on 
an  errand  to  me  ?  I  see  the  firmament  parting  asunder, 
and  the  stars  reeling  about  the  poles.  Yes !  I  follow 
th}'  might}'  presage,  whoe'er  thou  art  thus  calling  me 
to  arms.'  With  these  words  he  went  to  the  river-side, 
and  took  up  water  from  the  brimming  flood,  calling  oft 
on  the  gods  and  burdening  heaven  with  a  multitude  of 
vows. 

And  now  his  whole  army  was  in  motion  along  the 


BOOK  IX,  841 

open  plain,  richly  dowered  with  horses,  richly  dowered 
with  gold  and  broidered  raiment.  Messapus  marshals 
the  van,  Tyrrheus'  warrior-sons  the  rear:  Turnus  him- 
self, the  general,  is  in  the  center  —  like  Ganges  with 
his  seven  calm  streams  proudly  rising  through  the 
silence,  or  Nile  when  he  withdraws  from  the  plain  his 
fertilizing  waters  and  has  at  last  subsided  into  his  bed. 
Suddenly  the  Teucrians  look  forth  on  a  cloud  massed 
with  murky  dust,  and  see  darkness  gathering  over  the 
plain.  First  cries  Caicus  from  the  rampart's  front: 
'  What  mass  have  we  here,  my  countrymen,  rolling 
towards  us,  black  as  night?  Quick  with  the  steel, 
bring  weapons,  man  the'walls,  the  enemy  is  upon  us, 
ho  ! '  With  loud  shouts  the  Teucrians  pour  themselves 
through  all  the  gates  and  through  the  bulwarks.  For 
such  had  been  the  charge  of  ^neas,  that  best  of  sol- 
diers, when  going  on  his  way  ;  should  aught  fall  out 
meantime,  let  them  not  venture  to  draw  out  their  lines 
or  trj'  the  fortune  of  the  field  :  enough  for  them  to 
guard  camp  and  wall  safe  behind  their  earthworks. 
So  now,  though  shame  and  anger  prompt  to  an  engage- 
ment, the}^  shield  themselves  nevertheless  with  closed 
gates  in  pursuance  of  his  bidding,  and  armed,  within 
the  covert  of  their  towers,  await  the  foe.  Turnus,  just 
as  he  had  galloped  on  in  advance  of  his  tard}'  column, 
appears  unforeseen  before  the  gate  with  a  chosen  follow- 
ing of  twenty  horse :  with  a  Thracian  steed  to  carry 
him,  spotted  with  white,  and  a  golden  helm  with  scarlet 
crest  to  guard  his  head.  *  Now,  gallants,  which  of  you 
will  venture  with  me  first  against  the  foe?  Look 
there  ! '  he  cries,  and  with  a  whirl  sends  his  javelin  into 
the  air,  the  overture  of  battle,  and  proudly  prances 
over  the  plain.  His  friends  second  him  with  a  shout 
and  follow  with  dreadful  cries ;    they  wonder  at  the 


342  THE  jENEID. 

Teucrians'  sluggish  hearts  —  inen-at-ai*ms,  not  to  trust 
themselves  to  a  fair  field  or  fight  face  to  face,  but  keep 
nursing  their  camp.  Enraged,  he  rides  round  and 
round  the  walls,  and  looks  out  for  an  opening  where 
way  is  none.  Even  as  a  wolf,  lying  in  wait  to  surprise 
a  crowded  fold,  whines  about  the  enclosure,  exposed  to 
wind  and  rain,  at  mid  of  night ;  the  lambs,  nestling  safe 
under  their  mothers,  keep  bleating  loudly;  he  mad- 
dened and  reckless,  gnashes  his  teeth  at  the  prey  be- 
yond his  reach,  tormented  by  the  long  gathered  rage  of 
hunger  and  his  dr}'  bloodless  jaws :  just  so  the  Rutu- 
lian  scans  wall  and  camp  with  kindling  wrath ;  grief 
fires  the  marrow  of  his  iron  Bones  —  how  to  essay  an 
entrance  ?  what  way  to  dash  the  prisoned  Trojans  from 
the  rampart  and  fling  them  forth  on  level  ground? 
Close  to  the  camp's  side  was  lying  the  fleet,  shored 
round  by  earthworks  and  by  the  river ;  this  he  assails, 
calHng  for  fire  to  his  exulting  mates,  and  filling  his 
hand  with  a  blazing  pine,  himself  all  aglow.  Driven 
on  by  Turnus'  presence,  they  double  their  efforts  ;  each 
soldier  of  the  band  equips  himself  with  his  murky 
torch.  See,  the}'  have  stripped  the  hearths  :  the  smok- 
ing brand  sends  up  a  pitchy  glare,  and  the  Fire-god 
wafts  clouds  of  soot  and  flame  heaven-high. 

What  god,  ye  Muses,  shielded  the  Teucrians  from  a 
fire  so  terrible  ?  who  warded  off  from  the  ships  so  vast 
a  conflagration?  Tell  me^  the  faith  in  the  tale  is  old, 
but  its  fame  is  evergreen. 

In  early  dajs,  when  ^neas  in  Phrj^gian  Ida  was 
first  fashioning  his  fleet  and  making  ready  for  the  high 
seas,  the  great  mother  of  the  gods,  they  say,  the 
Berecyntian  queen,  thus  addressed  almighty  Jove : 
'  Grant,  my  son,  to  thj^  mother's  prayer  the  boon  she 
asks  thee  on  thy  conquest  of  Olympus.     A  pine-forest 


BOOK  IX.  343 

is  mine,  endeared  by  the  love  of  many  years,  a  sacred 
grove  on  the  mountain's  height,  whither  worshipers 
brought  their  Offerings,  bedarkened  with  black  pitch- 
trees  and  trunks  of  maple :  these  I  was  fain  to  give  to 
the  youth  of  Dardany  when  he  needed  a  fleet ;  now  my 
anxious  heart  is  wrung  by  disturbing  fears.  Release 
me  from  my  dread,  and  let  a  mother's  pra3'er  avail  thus 
much :  let  them  be  overcome  by  no  strain  of  voyage, 
no  violence  of  wind ;  give  them  good  of  their  birth  on 
m}^  sacred  hill.'  To  her  replied  her  son,  who  wields 
the  starry  sphere :  '  O  mother,  whither  wouldst  thou 
WTest  the  course  of  fate?  what  askest  thou  for 'these 
thy  favorites  ?  should  vessels  framed  by  mortal  hand 
have  charter  of  immortality?  should  ^neas,  himself 
assured,  meet  perils  all  unsure?  What  god  had  ever 
privilege  so  great?  Nay,  rather,  when  their  service  is 
over  and  they  gain  one  day  the  haA^en  of  Ausonia, 
from  all  such  as  escape  the  waves  and  convoy  the 
Dardan  chief  safe  to  Laurentian  soil,  I  will  take  away 
their  perishable  shape,  and, summon  them  to  the  state 
of  goddesses  of  the  mighty  ocean,  in  form  like  Nereus' 
children,  Doto  and  Galatea,  when  they  breast  the  foam- 
ing deep.'  He  said;  and  b}^  the  river  of  his  St3'gian 
brother,  by  the  banks  that  seethe  with  pitch  and  are 
washed  by  the  murky  torrent,  he  nodded  confirmation, 
and  with  his  nod  made  all  Olympus  tremble. 

So  now  the  promised  day  was  come,  and  the  Desti- 
nies had  fulfilled  the  time  appointed,  when  Turnus* 
lawless  violence  gave  warning  to  the  mighty  mother  to 
ward  off  the  firebrand  from  her  consecrated  ships. 
Now  in  a  moment  a  strange  light  flashed  on  the  ej^es  of 
all,  and  a  great  cloud  was  seen  from  the  quarter  of  the 
dawn-goddess  running  athwart  the  sky,  with  the  choirs 
of  Ida  in  its  train ;  then  came  darting  through  the  air 


344  THE  ^NEID. 

a  voice  of  terror,  thrilling  the  ranks  of  Trojan  and 
Rutulian  from  end  to  end :  '  Busy  not  yourselves,  ye 
Teucrians,  to  defend  my  ships,  nor  take  weapons  into 
your  hands :  Turnus  shall  have  leave  to  burn  up  the 
ocean  sooner  than  to  consume  my  sacred  pines.  Go 
free,  my  favorites :  go  and  be  goddesses  of  the  sea  : 
it  is  the  mother's  voice  that  bids  you.'  And  at  once 
each  ship  snaps  her  cable  from  the  bank,  and  like  a 
dolphin  dips  her  beak  and  makes  for  the  bottom. 
Then  all  emerge  in  maiden  forms,  a  marvel  to  behold, 
and  breast  the  main,  as  many  as  stood  a  moment  ago 
with  their  brazen  prows  to  the  shore. 

Amazement  seized  the  Rutulians ;  terror  came  on 
Messapus  himself,  confusion  on  his  steeds ;  even  Tiber, 
the  river,  pauses,  murmuring  hoarsel}^  and  retraces 
his  seaward  course.  But  bold  Turnus'  confidence  felt 
no  check ;  no,  his  words  are  ready  to  encourage  and 
upbraid :  '  It  is  at  the  Trojans  that  these  portents 
point :  Jove  himself  has  robbed  them  of  their  wonted 
resource;  they  wait  not  for  Rutulian  fire  and  sword 
to  do  the  work.  Yes,  the  sea  is  impassable  to  the 
Teucrians ;  hope  of  flight  have  they  none ;  one  half 
of  nature  is  taken  from  them ;  as  for  earth,  it  is  in 
our  hands,  thanks  to  the  thousands  here  standing  in 
arms,  the  tribes  of  Italy.  I  care  not  for  the  fateful 
utterances  of  heaven  that  these  Phrygians  vaunt,  be 
they  what  they  may  :  fate  and  Venus  have  had  license 
enough,  in  that  the  Trojans  have  set  foot  on  the  soil 
of  our  rich  Ausonia.  I,  too,  have  a  fate  of  my  own, 
to  mow  down  with  the  sword  the  guilty  nation  that 
has  stolen  my  bride ;  that  wrong  of  theirs  comes  not 
home  to  the  Atridae  alone,  nor  has  Mycenae  alone  the 
privilege  of  going  to  war.  But  one  destruction  is 
enough  for  them  —  ay,  had   one   transgression  been 


BOOK  IX.  345 

enough,  so  that  they  had  henceforth  loathed  the  sex 
well-nigh  to  a  woman.  Men  who  trust  in  their  inter- 
vening rampart,  whom  the  pause  at  the  trench,  those 
few  feet  of  distance  from  death,  inspires  with  cour- 
age. Why,  did  they  not  see  their  city  of  Troy  sink 
into  the  fire,  though  built  by  the  hand  of  Neptune? 
But  you,  my  chosen  mates,  who  is  there  ready  to  hew 
down  the  rampart  and  rush  with  me  on  their  bewildered 
camp  ?  I  need  not  the  arms  of  Vulcan  nor  a  thousand 
sail  for  my  Trojan  war.  Let  all  Etruria  join  them  in 
a  body.  Night  alarms,  cowardly  thefts  of  their  guar- 
dian image,  slaughterings  of  the  sentry  on  the  height, 
they  need  fear  none  of  these ;  we  will  not  skulk  in  a 
horse's  murky  womb  :  in  broad  day,  in  the  sight  of  all, 
I  stand  'pledged  to  put  a  ring  of  fire  round  their  walls. 
I  will  not  let  them  fancy  they  are  dealing  with  the 
Danaans  and  the  Pelasgian  chivalry,  whom  Hector 
kept  ten  j^ears  waiting  for  their  due.  Now,  since  the 
better  part  of  the  day  is  spent,  for  what  remains,  gal- 
lants, refresh  yourselves  after  your  good  service,  and 
be  assured  that  battle  is  getting  ready.* 

Meantime  the  charge  is  given  to  Messapus  to  leaguer 
the  gates  with  relays  of  watchmen,  and  throw  a  girdle 
of  fire  round  the  ramparts.  Twice  seven  Rutulian 
chiefs  are  chosen  to  keep  armed  observation  of  the 
walls :  a  hundred  warriors  attend  on  each,  red  with 
scarlet  crests  and  gleaming  with  gold.  They  move 
from  place  to  place  and  relieve  one  another,  and 
stretched  on  the  grass  give  wine  its  fling  and  tilt  the 
brazen  bowl.  Bright  shine  the  fires:  the  warders 
speed  the  wakeful  night  with  sport  and  game. 

The  Trojans  look  forth  on  the  scene  from  their  earth- 
works, as  in  arms  they  man  the  summit ;  with  anxious 
fear  they  test  the  gates,  and  link  bridge  and  bulwark. 


346  THE  ^NEID, 

their  weapons  in  their  hands.  First  in  the  work  are 
Mnestheus  and  keen  Serestus,  whom  father  -^neas, 
should  adverse  crisis  call  for  action,  left  to  command 
the  warriors  and  govern  affairs  at  home.  The  whole 
arm}^  along  the  wall,  dividing  the  danger,  keeps  guard, 
each  relieving  each  at  the  post  assigned. 

The  warder  of  the  gate  was  Nisus,  a  soldier  of  keen- 
est mettle,  Hj^tacus'  son,  whom  Ida  the  huntress  sent 
to  attend  --Eneas,  quick  with  the  dart  and  the  flying 
arrow:  and  at  his  side  Eur^^alus,  than  whom  was  none 
fairer  among  Eneas'  children,  none  that  ever  donned 
the  arms  of  Troy,  a  stripling  whose  unrazored  cheeks 
just  showed  the  first  bloom  of  youth.  Theirs  was  a 
common  love :  side  by  side  they  wont  to  rush  into 
the  battle :  and  even  then  they  were  keeping  watch  at 
the  gate  in  joint  duty.  Nisus  exclaims :  *  Is  it  the 
gods,  Euryalus,  that  make  men's  hearts  glow  thus? 
or  does  ea<jh  one's  ungoverned  yearning  become  his 
god?  My  heart  has  long  been  astir  to  rush  on  war 
or  other  mighty  deed,  nor  will  peaceful  quiet  content 
it.  You  see  the  RutuUans  there,  delivered  up  to  confi- 
dence in  the  future :  their  line  of  lights  gleams  broken- 
ly :  unnerved  with  sleep  and  wine,  yonder  they  lie :  all 
around  is  still.  Listen  on,  and  learn,  on  what  I  am 
brooding,  and  what  thought  is  this  moment  uppermost. 
*' -Eneas  should  be  recalled"  —  so  cry  people  and 
leaders  as  one  man;  "messengers  should  be  sent  to 
tell  him  the  truth."  If  they  pledge  themselves  to 
what  I  ask  for  you  —  for  me  the  fame  of  the  deed  is 
sufficient  —  methinks  under  the  mound  yonder  I  could 
find  a  way  to  the  city  walls  of  Pallanteum.'  A  thrill 
of  generous  ambition  struck  wonder  into  Euryalus,  as 
thus  he  addressed  his  glowing  friend:  'And  would 
you  shrink  from  taking  me  with  you,  Nisus,  on  this 


BOOK  IX.  347 

high  occasion  ?  Am  I  to  send  you  ont  alone  on  such 
perilous  errand  ?  It  was  not  thus  that  my  father,  the 
veteran  Opheltes,  reared  and  bred  me  among  Argive 
terrors  and  Trojan  agonies,  nor  have  such  been  my 
doings  at  your  side,  since  I  followed  our  hero  -^neas 
and  his  desperate  fate.  Here,  here,  within  me  is  a 
soul  that  thinks  scorn  of  happy  sunshine,  and  deems 
that  the  glory  at  which  you  aim  were  cheaply  bought 
with  life.*  '  Nay,*  returns  Nisus,  '  trust  me,  I  had  no 
such  fear  of  3^ou  —  none  such  had  been  just :  so  may 
I  return  to  3'ou  in  triumph,  by  grace  of  mighty  Jove, 
or  whosoever  now  looks  down  on  us  with  righteous 
eyes.  But  should  aught  —  and  a  venture  like  this, 
you  see,  has  a  thousand  such  —  should  aught  sway 
things  amiss,  be  it  chance  or  heaven's  will,  I  would 
fain  have  you  spared  :  j^ours  is  the  meeter  age  for 
life.  Let  me  have  one  to  rescue  me  in  fight,  or  re- 
deem me  by  ransom  paid,  and  so  consign  me  to  the 
burial  all  receive :  or  should  Fortune  grudge  even 
that,  to  pay  me  the  rites  of  the  absent,  and  give  me 
the  adornment  of  a  tomb.  Nor  let  me  be  the  cause 
of  grief  so  terrible  to  that  unhappy  parent,  who  alone 
of  many  matrons  has  had  a  heart  to  follow  you,  dear 
boy,  nor  cares  for  the  city  of  great  Acestes.*  He 
replied  :  '  Spinning  empty  pretexts  is  idle  work  :  there 
is  no  change  or  faltering  in  my  resolve.  Up  and  dis- 
patch !  *  At  once  he  rouses  the  guard,  who  take  his 
place  and  fulfil  their  time,  while  he,  departing  from  the 
post,  walks  side  by  side  with  Nisus,  and  they  seek  the 
prince  together. 

All  else  that  breathed  on  earth  were  asleep,  their 
load  of  care  unbound,  their  hearts  oblivious  of  toil; 
the  chief  leaders  of  the  Teucrians,  the  flower  of  the 
host,  were  holding  council  on  the  crisis  in  their  realm*s 


348  THE  ^NEID. 

fortune,  what  they  should  do,  or  who  should  at  length 
be  sent  with  the  news  to  ^neas.  There  they  stand 
propped  on  their  long  spears,  their  shields  still  in 
their  hands,  in  the  midst  of  camp  and  plain.  At  this 
moment  Nisus  and  Euryalus  eagerly  crave  instant  ad- 
mission —  the  affair  is  great,  say  they,  and  well  worth 
the  pause  it  claims.  lulus  was  the  first  to  welcome 
and  reassure  them,  and  bid  Nisus  speak.  Then  began 
the  son  of  Hyrtacus :  '  Listen,  ye  sons  of  Troy,  with 
kindly  heed,  nor  let  these  our  proffers  be  judged  by 
our  years.  The  Rutulians,  unnerved  b}'  sleep  and 
wine,  are  hushed  in  silence:  we  have  ourselves  ob- 
served a  place  for  a  stealthy  move,  open  through  the 
passage  of  the  gate  which  abuts  on  the  sea.  The  line 
of  fires  is  broken,  and  onl}^  dusky  smoke  rises  to  the 
sky :  give  us  but  leave  to  make  use  of  fortune,  and 
go  in  quest  of  ^neas  and  the  walls  of  Pallanteum, 
soon  shall  you  see  us  here  again  after  a  mighty  car- 
nage, laden  with  spoils.  Nor  can  the  way  mislead  us 
as  we  go :'  we  have  seen  in  the  dimness  of  the  vale  the 
outskirts  of  the  city  while  persevering  in  our  hunting, 
and  have  made  acquaintance  with  the  whole  river's 
course.'  Then  spoke  Aletes,  weighty  with  years  and 
ripe  of  understanding :  '  Gods  of  our  fathers,  whose 
constant  presence  watches  over  Troy,  not  yet  in  spite 
of  all  do  ye  purpose  to  make  an  utter  end  of  us 
Teucrians,  when  such  are  the  spirits  and  so  steadfast 
the  hearts  ye  breed  in  our  youth.'  As  he  said  this, 
he  kept  embracing  the  necks  and  hands  of  both,  and 
bathing  his  cheeks  in  floods  of  tears.  *What  guer- 
dons, gallant  men,  what  can  I  fancy  of  worth  enough 
to  pay  you  for  glories  like  these  ?  First  and  richest 
of  all  will  be  the  praise  of  heaven  and  your  own 
hearts ;  next  to  these  you  will  receive  the  rest  without 


BOOK  IX,  349 

fail  from  good  -^neas  and  young  Ascanius,  who  will 
never  forget  a  service  so  great.'  '  Nay,'  cries  Asca- 
nius, '  let  me  speak,  me,  whose  safety  is  bound  up 
with  my  sire's  return :  by  our  great  household  gods  I 
adjure  you,  Nisus,  by  the  deity  of  Assaracus'  house 
and  the  shrine  of  reverend  Vesta  —  all  my  fortune, 
all  my  trust,  I  place  in  your  hands :  bring  back  my 
father,  let  me  see  him  again ;  he  once  restored,  all 
grief  is  over.  I  will  give  you  a  pair  of  goblets  wrought 
with  silver  and  rough  from  the  chasing-tool,  which  my 
father  took  when  he  conquered  Arisba,  a  couple  of 
tripods,  two  great  talents  of  gold,  and  an  ancient 
bowl,  Sidonian  Dido  its  donor.  But  if  it  be  our 
victorious  fortune  to  conquer  Italy  and  attain  the 
crown,  and  appoint  the  lot  for  the  booty  —  you  saw 
the  horse  which  Turnus  rode,  the  arms  in  which  he 
moved  all  golden  —  that  horse,  that  shield,  and  the 
scarlet  crest  I  will  set  apart  from  the  lot,  and  count 
it,  Nisus,  yours  alread}^  Moreover,  my  sire  shall 
give  you  twelve  matron  captives  of  choicest  beaut}', 
male  prisoners  too,  each  with  his  armor,  and,  to  crown 
all,  the  portion  of  domain  held  by  king  Latinus  him- 
self. But  you,  whose  3'ears  are  followed  at  nearer 
distance  by  my  own,  revered  youth,  I  take  at  once  to 
my  heart,  and  fold  you  there,  my  comrade  for  what- 
ever betides.  Never  will  I  seek  glory  for  my  own 
estate  apart  from  you :  whether  I  have  peace  or  war 
on  hand,  yours  shall  be  mj'  utmost  confidence  in  deed 
and  in  word.'  To  him  spoke  Euryalus  in  reply  :  '  No 
length  of  time  shall  find  me  false  to  the  promise  of  my 
bold  essay :  let  but  fortune  speed  and  not  thwart  us. 
But  one  boon  I  would  ask  of  you  beyond  all  others : 
I  have  a  mother  of  Priam's  ancient  house,  whom  not 
the  land  of  Ilium,  not  the  city  of  king  Aotstes,  could 


350  THE  jENEID. 

keep,  poor  soul,  from  going  with  me.  Her  I  am  now 
leaving,  ignorant  of  this  peril,  be  it  what  it  ma}-,  with 
no  word  of  greeting  —  Night  and  your  right  hand  are 
my  witnesses  —  because  I  could  not  bear  a  parent's 
tears.  But  you,  I  pray,  comfort  her  need  and  sup- 
port her  lonely  age.  With  this  trust  in  you  to  bear 
along  with  me,  I  shall  meet  all  that  happens  with  a" 
bolder  spirit.'  Touched  to  the  heart,  the  children  of 
Dardanus  broke  into  tears  — chief  of  all  the  fair 
lulus,  as  the  picture  of  his  own  filial  love  flashed 
upon  his  soul.  Thus  he  speaks :  '  Assure  3'ourself 
that  all  shall  be  done  that  your  mighty  deeds  deserve. 
Yes,  she  shall  be  my  own  mother,  naught  wanting 
but  the  name  to  make  her  Creusa's  self;  to  have 
borne  you  lays  up  no  mean  store  of  gratitude.  What- 
ever the  fortune  that  attends  your  endeavor,  I  swear 
by  this  my  head,  by  which  my  father  has  been  wont 
to  swear,  all  t^at  I  promise  to  3-ou  in  the  event 
of  your  prosperous  return,  shall  remain  in  its  full- 
ness assured  to  your  mother  and  your  house.'  This 
he  says  weeping,  and  unbelts  from  his  shoulder  a 
gilded  sword  wrought  with  rare  art  by  Lycaon  of 
Crete,  and  fitted  for  use  with  a  scabbard  of  ivory. 
To  Nisus  Mnestheus  gives  a  skin,  a  lion's  shaggy 
spoils :  Aletes,  true  of  heart,  makes  an  exchange  of 
helmets.  Their  arming  done  they  march  along;  and 
as  they  go,  the  whole  band  of  nobles,  young  and 
old,  escorts  them  to  the  gate  with  prayers  for  their 
safety.  There  too  was  fair  lulus,  in  heart  and  fore- 
thought manUer  than  his  years,  giving  them  many  a 
charge  to  carry  to  his  father.  But  the  winds  scatter 
all  alike,  and  deliver  them  canceled  to  the  clouds. 

Passing  through  the  gate,  they  cross  the  trenches, 
and  through  the  midnight  shade  make  for  the  hostile 


BOOK  IX.  351 

camp  —  destined,  though,  first  to  be  the  death'  of 
manj'.  All  about  the  grass  they  see  bodies  stretched 
at  length  b}^' sleep  and  wine,  cars  tilted  up  on  the 
shore,  men  lying  among  wheels  and  harness,  with 
ai-mor  and  pools  of  wine  about  them.  First  spoke 
the  son  of  Hyrtacus :  '  Euryalus,  daring  hands  are 
wanted  ;  the  occasion  now  calls  for  action ;  here  lies 
our  way.  Do  you  keep  watch  and  wide  look-out, 
lest  an}'  hand  be  lifted  against  us  from  behind;  I 
will  lay  these  ranks  waste,  and  give  3'ou  a  broad  path 
to  walk  in.'  So  saying,  he  checks  his  voice,  and  at 
oncfe  with  his  tyrannous  sword  assails  Rhamnes,  who, 
pillowed  on  a  vast  pile  of  rugs,  was  breathing  from 
all  his  breast  the  breath  of  sleep  —  a  king  himself, 
and  king  Turnus'  favorite  augur ;  but  his  augury 
availed  him  not  to  ward  off  death.  Close  by  he  sur- 
prises three  attendants,  stretched  carelessly  among 
their  weapons,  and  Remus'  armor-bearer  and  char- 
ioteer, catching  him  as  he  lay  at  the  horses'  side : 
the  steel  shears  through  their  drooping  necks ;  then 
he  lops  the  head  of  their  lord,  and  leaves  the  trunk 
gurgling  and  spouting  blood,  while  ground  and  couch 
are  reeking  with  black  streams  of  gore.  Lamyrus 
too,  and  Lamus,  and  3-oung  Serranus,  who  had  plaj'ed 
long  that  night  in  the  pride  of  his  beautj^,  and  was 
lying  with  the  dream-god's  hand  heavy  upon  hint; 
happ3',  had  he  made  his  play  as  long  as  the  night,  and 
pushed  it  into  morning.  Like  a  hungrj'  lion  mak- 
ing havoc  through  a  teeming  fold  —  for  the  madness 
of  famine  constrains  him  —  he  goes  mangling  and  drag- 
ging along  the  feeble  cattle,  dumb  with  terror,  and 
gnashing  his  bloody  teeth.  JNor  less  the  carnage  of 
Eurj^alus :  he,  too,  all  on  fire,  storms  along,  and  slays 
on  his  road  a  vast  and  nameless  crowd.  Fad  us  and  Her- 


352  THE  MNEID. 

besus,  and  Rhoetus  and  Abaris  —  unconscious  these: 
Rhoetus  was  awake  and  saw  it  all,  but  in  his  fear  he 
crouched  behind  a  massive  bowl ;  whence,  as  he  rose, 
the  conqueror  plunged  into  his  fronting  breast  the 
length  of  his  sword,  and  drew  it  back  with  a  torrent 
of  death.  The  dying  man  vomits  forth  his  crimson 
life,  and  disgorges  mingled  wine  and  blood :  the  foe 
pursues  his  stealthy  work.  And  now  he  was  making 
for  Messapus'  followers,  for  there  he  saw  the  flicker 
of  dying  fires,  and  horses  tied  and  browsing  at  their 
ease ;  when  thus  spoke  Nisus  in  brief,  seeing  him  hur- 
ried on  by  passion  and  excess  of  slaughter :  '  For- 
bear we  now ;  the  daylight,  our  enemy,  is  at  hand ; 
we  have  supped  on  vengeance  to  the  full ;  a  highway 
is  open  through  the  foe.*  Many  warriors*  arms  the}^ 
leave,  wrought  of  solid  silver,  many  bowls  and  gor- 
geous coverlets.  Euryalus  lays  hand  on  Rhamnes' 
trappings  and  his  belt  with  golden  studs,  sent  by 
wealthy  Csedicus  of  old  as  a  present  to  Remulus  of 
Tibur,  when  he  fain  would  make  him  his  friend  from 
a  distance ;  he,  dying,  leaves  them  to  his  grandson, 
after  whose  death  the  Rutulians  won  them  in  battle ; 
these  he  strips  off,  and  fits  them  to  his  valiant  breast, 
all  for  naught.  Then  he  puts  on  Messapus*  shapely 
helm,  with  its  graceful  crest.  They  leave  the  camp,  and 
pass  into  safety. 

Meanwhile  a  troop  of  horse,  sent  on  from  the  town 
of  Latium,  while  the  rest  of  the  force  abides  drawn 
up  on  the  field,  was  on  its  way  with  a  message  to  king 
Turnus,  three  hundred,  shield-bearers  all,  with  Vol- 
scens,  their  chief.  They  were  just  nearing  the  camp, 
and  passing  under  the  wall,  when  at  distance  they  spy 
the  two  bending  to  the  left,  and  the  helmet,  seen  in 
the  glimmering  twilight,  betrayed  the  heedless  Euryalus, 


BOOK  IX.  853 

as  the  moonbeam  flashed  full  upon  it.  The  sight  fell 
not  on  idle  eyes.  Volscens  shouts  from  his  band: 
*  Halt,  gallants ;  tell  3^our  errand,  who  you  are  thus 
armed,  and  whither  you  are  going.'  They  venture 
no  reply,  but  hasten  the  faster  to  the  woods,  and 
make  the  night  their  friend.  The  horsemen  bar  each 
well-known  passage  right  and  left  and  set  a  guard  on 
every  outlet.  The  wood  was  shagged  with  thickets 
and  dark  ilex  boughs ;  impenetrable  briers  filled  it  on 
every  side ;  through  the  concealed  tracks  just  gleamed 
a  narrow  path.  Euryalus  is  hampered  by  the  dark- 
ness of  the  branches,  and  the  incumbrance  of  his 
booty,  and  fear  makes  him  miss  the  right  line  of  road. 
Nisus  shoots  away :  and  now  in  his  forgetfulness  he 
had  escaped  the  foe,  and  gained  the  region  afterwards 
called  Alban  from  Alba's  name ;  in  that  day  king 
Latinus  had  there  his  stately  stalls  ;  when  he  halted, 
and  looked  back  in  vain  for  the  friend  he  could  not 
see.  '  My  poor  Euryalus  !  where  have  I  left  you  ? 
what  way  shall  I  trace  3'OU,  unthreading  all  the  tangled 
path  of  that  treacherous  wood?'  As  he  speaks,  he 
scans  and  retraces  each  step,  and  wanders  through 
the  stillness  of  the  brakes.  He  hears  the  horses,  hears 
the  noise  and  the  tokens  of  pursuit.  Pass  a  few 
moments,  and  a  shout  strikes  on  his  ear,  and  he  sees 
Euryalus,  who  is  in  the  hands  of  the  whole  crew,  the 
victim  of  the  ground  and  the  night,  bewildered  by  th£ 
sudden  onslaught,  hurried  along,  and  making  a  thou- 
sand fruitless  efforts.  What  should  he  do?  with  what 
force,  what  arms  can  he  attempt  a  rescue  ?  should  he 
dash  through  the  thick  of  their  swords  with  death 
before  his  eyes,  and  hurry  to  a  glorious  end  in  a 
shower  of  wounds?  Soon,  with  his  arm  drawn  back, 
he  poises  his  spear-shaft,  looking  up  to  the  moon  in 
23 


354  THE  JENEID. 

the  sky,  and  thus  prays  aloud :  '  Thou,  goddess,  be 
thou  present,  and  befriend  my  endeavor,  Latona's 
daughter,  glory  of  the  heavens  and  guardian  of  the 
woods :  if  ever  my  father  Hyrtacus  brought  gift  for 
me  to  thine  altar,  if  ever  my  own  hunting  swelled  the 
tribute,  if  ever  I  hung  an  offering  from  thy  dome  or 
fastened  it  on  thy  hallowed  summit,  suffer  me  to  con- 
found this  mass,  and  guide  m}^  weapons  through  the 
air.'  This  said,  with  an  effort  of  his  whole  frame  he 
hurled  the  steel.  The  flying  spear  strikes  through  the 
shades  of  night,  reaches  the  turned  back  of  Sulmo, 
there  snaps  short,  and  pierces  the  midriff  with  the 
broken  wood.  Down  he  tumbles,  disgorging  from  his 
breast  the  warm  life-torrent  that  leaves  him  cold,  and 
long  choking  gasps  smite  on  his  sides.  They  look 
round  this  way  and  that :  while  the  same  fell  arm, 
nerved  by  success,  is  leveling,  see !  another  weapon 
from  the  ear-tip.  While  all  is  confusion,  the  spear 
has  passed  through  Tagus'  two  temples  with  whizzing 
sound,  and  lies  warmly  lodged  in  his  cloven  brain. 
Volscens  storms  with  fury,  yet  sees  nowhere  the 
author  of  the  wound,  nor  on  whom  to  vent  his  rage  : 
*  You,  however,  shall  pay  both  debts  meanwhile  with 
your  heart's  blood,'  cries  he ;  and  speaking,  rushes 
with  drawn  sword  on  Euryalus.  Then,  indeed,  in 
frantic  agony,  Nisus  shouts  aloud ;  no  more  care  had 
^e  to  hide  himself  in  darkness,  no  more  strength  to 
bear  grief  so  terrible:  'Me,  me!  behold  the  doer! 
make  me  your  mark,  O  Rutulians !  mine  is  all  the 
blame ;  he  had  no  heart,  no  hand  for  such  deeds  ;  this 
heaven,  these  stars  know  that  it  is  true ;  it  was  but 
that  he  loved  his  unhappy  friend  too  well.'  Thus  he 
was  pleading;  but  the  sword,  driven  with  the  arm's 
full   force,  has   pierced   the   ribs   and   is  rending  the 


BOOK  IX.  355 

snowy  breast.  Down  falls  Euiyalus  in  death ;  over 
his  beauteous  limbs  gushes  the  blood,  and  his  power- 
less neck  sinks  on  his  shoulders ;  as  when  a  purple 
flower,  severed  by  the  plough,  pines  in  death,  or 
poppies  with  faint  necks  droop  the  head,  when  rain 
has  chanced  to  weigh  them  down.  But  Nisus  rushes 
full  on  the  foe,  Volscens  his  one  object  among  them 
all ;  he  cares  for  none  but  Yolscens  :  the  enemy  cluster 
round,  and  assail  him  on  all  sides ;  none  the  less  he 
holds  on  his  way,  whirling  his  lightning  blade,  till  at 
last  he  lodges  it  full  in  the  Rutulian's  face,  as  he 
shrieks  for  aid,  and  dying  robs  his  foe  of  Hfe.  Then 
he  flung  himself  on  his  breathless  friend,  pierced 
through  and  through,  and  there  at  length  slept  away 
in  peaceful  death. 

Happy  pair !  if  this  my  song  has  aught  of  potency, 
no  lapse  of  days  shall  efface  your  names  from  the 
memory  of  time,  so  long  as  the  house  of  ^neas  shall 
dwell  on  the  Capitol's  moveless  rock,  and  a  Roman 
father  shall  be  the  world's  lord. 

The  Rutulian  conquerors,  enriched  with  spoil  and 
booty,  were  bearing  Volscens'  body  to  the  camp  with 
tears  in  their  eyes.  Nor  less  loud  is  the  wailing  in 
the  camp,  when  they  find  Rhamnes  drained  of  life, 
and  those  many  chiefs  slain  by  a  single  carnage  — 
Serranus,  Numa,  and  the  rest.  They  flock  in  crowds 
to  the  bodies,  the  warriors  yet  breathing,  the  place 
fresh  and  reeking  with  slaughter,  and  the  streams  of 
gore  full  and  foaming.  They  pass  the  spoils  from 
hand  to  hand,  and  recognize  Messapus'  gleaming 
helm,  and  the  trappings  which  it  cost  such  sweat  to 
recover. 

Now  at  last  the  goddess  of  the  dawn  was  sprinkling 
the  world  with  new-born  Hght,  as  she  rose  from  Titho- 


356  THE  jENEID. 

nns*  saffron  couch :  the  sun  had  streamed  in  and  all 
was  revealed  b}^  daybreak,  when  Turnus  summons  his 
men  to  arms,  himself  sheathed  in  armor;  each  gen- 
eral musters  in  battle  array  his  brass-mailed  bands, 
and,  scattering  divers  speeches,  stings  them  to  fury. 
Nay,  more,  on  uplifted  spears,  most  piteous  sight, 
they  set  up  the  heads,  and  follow  them  with  deafening 
shouts  —  the  heads  of  Euryalus  and  Nisus.  Eneas' 
sturdy  family,  on  the  rampart's  left  side,  set  the  fight 
in  array  —  for  the  right  is  flanked  by  the  river  —  guard 
the  broad  trenches  and  stand  on  the  lofty  towers,  deep 
in  sorrow  —  touched  to  see  those  lifted  human  counte- 
nances, which  to  their  grief  they  knew  so  well,  drip- 
ping with  black  corrupted  gore. 

Meantime,  Fame  spreads  her  wings  and  flies  with  the 
news  through  the  wildered  settlement,  and  reaches  the 
ears  of  Eur3'alus'  mother.  At  once  the  vital  heat  left 
her  wretched  frame :  the  shuttle  was  dashed  from  her 
hands,  and  the  thread  ran  back.  Forth  flies  the  un- 
happy dame,  and  with  a  woman's  piercing  shriek,  her 
tresses  rent,  makes  madly  for  the  walls  and  the  van 
of  battle,  heeding  not  the  eyes  of  men,  heeding  not 
the  peril  and  the  shower  of  javelins,  while  she  fills  the 
heaven  with  her  plaints :  '  Is  it  thus,  Euryalus,  that 
I  see  3'ou  again?  have  jou,  the  late  solace  of  my 
waning  years,  had  the  heart  to  leave  me  alone,  un- 
pitying?  nor,  when  you  ventured  on  such  dangerous 
errand,  might  your  wretched  mother  speak  her  fare- 
well ?  Alas !  on  an  unknown  land  you  are  lying,  ex- 
posed to  the  ravin  of  Latium's  dogs  and  birds ;  nor 
have  I,  your  mother,  followed  your  corpse  to  the 
tomb,  or  closed  your  eyes,  or  bathed  your  wounds, 
shrouding  you  with  the  robe  which  I  worked  so  hard 
to  finish  day  and  night,  and  made  the  loom  the  medi- 


BOOK  IX,  367 

cine  of  an  old  wife's  sorrow !  Where  shall  I  seek  you  ? 
what  land  now  contains  those  severed  limbs,  that  muti- 
lated corpse  ?  is  this  the  sole  relic  of  yourself  that  you 
bring  back  to  me,  my  son?  is  this  what  I  followed 
over  land  and  sea?  Pierce  me,  if  you  have  aught 
of  human  feeling  —  shower  on  me  all  your  darts,  ye 
Rutulians,  let  the  sword  make  me  its  first  meal ;  or 
do  thou,  great  sire  of  the  gods,  have  mercy,  and 
with  thy  lightning-bolt  strike  down  to  Tartarus  this 
hated  life,  since  I  cannot  otherwise  end  the  cruel  pain 
of  being/  Her  wail  shook  every  heart  to  its  center ; 
a  groan  of  sorrow  passed  through  the  ranks ;  their 
Hiartial  prowess  flags  and  faints.  At  last,  as  her 
agony  flames  higher,  Idaeus  and  Actor,  bidden  by  Ilio- 
neus  and  the  tearful  lulus,  lay  hold  of  her,  and  carry 
in  their  arms  within. 

But  the  trumpet  from  its  brazen  throat  uttered 
afar  a  tremendous  blare ;  a  shout  ensues,  and  heaven 
returns  the  roar.  Quick  speed  the  Volscians,  carry- 
ing in  level  line  their  penthouse  of  shields,  and  strive 
to  fill  the  moat  and  pluck  down  the  palisade.  Some 
look  about  for  an  access,  and  fain  would  scale  the 
walls  with  ladders,  where  the  line  of  defense  is  thin, 
and  the  ring  of  men,  not  too  closely  set,  shows  a 
gleaming  interval.  The  Teucrians,  on  their  part, 
shower  missiles  of  every  sort,  and  repulse  the  assail- 
ants with  strong  poles,  taught  by  a  long  war's  expe- 
rience how  to  guard  their  walls.  Stones,  too,  they 
kept  rolling  of  fatal  bulk,  in  hope  to  break  through 
the  foe's  sheltered  ranks,  though  beneath  so  firm  a 
penthouse  a  soldier  may  well  smile  at  all  that  can 
betide.  Ay,  and  it  ceases  to  avail  them:  for  where 
a  mighty  mass  threatens  the  rampart,  the  Teucrians 
push  forward  and  roll  down  an  enormous  weight,  which 


358  THE  ^NEID. 

made  wide  havoc  among  the  Rutulians,  and  burst  the 
joints  of  their  harness.  And  now  the  bold  Rutulians 
care  no  longer  to  wage  war  in  the  dark,  but  aim  at 
driving  them  from  the  ramparts  with  a  storm  of  mis- 
siles. In  another  quarter,  terrible  to  look  upon,  Me- 
zentius  waves  an  Etruscan  pine  and  hurls  fire  and 
smoke,  while  Messapus,  tamer  of  the  steed,  of  the 
race  of  Neptune,  plucks  down  the  palisade,  and  calls 
for  ladders  to  the  battlement. 

Vouchsafe,  Calliope  and  thy  heavenly  sisterhood,  to 
aid  me  while  I  sing,  what  slaughter,  what  deaths  were 
dealt  that  day  in  that  place  by  Turnus'  sword,  what 
foes  each  warrior  sent  down  to  the  grave,  and  help 
me  to  unfold  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  mighty 
war. 

A  tower  there  was,  vast  to  look  on  from  below, 
with  lofty  bridges,  placed  on  a  vantage-ground,  which 
all  the  Itahans,  with  utmost  force  and  utmost  strain 
of  might,  were  essaying  to  storm,  while  the  Trojans, 
on  their  side,  were  defending  it  with  stones,  and 
hurling  showers  of  darts  through  its  narrow  e^^elets. 
Turnus  the  first  flung  a  blazing  torch  and  fastened 
fire  on  its  side ;  fanned  by  the  wind,  the  flame  seized 
the  planks  and  lodged  in  the  consuming  doors.  The 
inmates  are  all  in  confusion,  and  in  vain  seek  to  es- 
cape the  mischief.  While  the}^  huddle  together  and 
retire  upon  the  part  which  the  plague  has  spared,  in 
an  instant  the  tower  falls  heavily  down,  and  the  firma- 
ment thunders  with  the  crash.  Half  dead  they  come 
to  the  ground,  the  huge  fabric  following  on  their  backs, 
pierced  by  their  own  weapons,  their  breasts  impaled  by 
the  cruel  wood.  Barely  two  escaped,  Helenor  and  Ly- 
cus  —  Helenor  in  prime  of  youth,  whom  Licymnia  the 
slave  had  borne  secretly  to  the  Mseonian  king,  and 


BOOK  IX.  359 

had  sent  to  Troy  in  forbidden  arms,  with  the  light 
accouterment  of  a  naked  sword,  and  a  shield  uncharged 
by  an  escutcheon.  Soon  as  he  saw  himself  with  Tur- 
nus'  thousands  round  him,  the  armies  of  Latium  stand- 
ing on  this  side  and  on  that,  like  a  beast  that,  hemmed 
in  by  the  hunters'  close-set  ring,  vents  her  rage  on  the 
darts  and  flings  herself  deliberately  on  death,  and 
springs  from  high  on  the  line  of  spears,  even  thus  the 
doomed  3'outh  rushes  on  the  midst  of  the  foe,  making 
for  where  he  sees  the  darts  are  thickest.  But  L3"cus, 
far  swifter  of  foot,  winds  among  ranks  of  foes  and 
showers  of  steel  and  gains  the  wall,  and  strives  to 
clutch  the  fabric's  summit  and  reach  the  hands  of  his 
friends.  Whom  Turnus,  following  him  at  once  with 
foot  and  javelin,  taunts  in  victorious  tone  :  '  Dreamed 
3'ou,  poor  fool,  that  j-ou  could  escape  my  hands? '  and 
with  that  he  seizes  him  as  he  hangs  in  air,  and  pulls 
him  down  with  a  great  fragment  of  the  wall ;  just  as 
the  bearer  of  Jove's  thunder  trusses  in  his  hooked 
talons  a  hare  or  a  snow-white  swan  and  soars  into  the 
sky,  or  one  of  Mars'  wolves  snatches  from  the  fold  a 
lamb  which  its  mother's  bleatings  reclaim  in  vain.  On 
all  sides  rises  the  war-shout.  They  rush  on  the  trenches 
and  fill  them  with  shattered  earthworks,  while  others 
fling  blazing  firebrands  to  the  roofs.  Ilioneus  with  a 
rock,  broken  from  a  mighty  mountain,  brings  down 
Lucetius  as  he  assails  the  gates  and  waves  his  torch. 
Liger  kills  Emathion,  Asilas  Corynaeus,  one  skilled 
with  the  javelin,  one  with  the  arrow  that  surprises 
from  a  distance.  Cseneus  slays  Ortygius,  Turnus  the 
conqueror  Cseneus,  Turnus  Itys  and  Clonius,  Dioxippus 
and  Promolus,  and  Sagaris,  and  Idas,  who  was  stand- 
ing on  the  turret's  top.  Capys  kills  Privernus ;  The- 
milla's  flying  spear  had  grazed  him  first;   he,  poor 


860  THE  jENEID. 

fool,  dropped  his  buckler  and  clapped  his  hand  to  the 
wound,  so  the  arrow  came  on  stealthy  wing,  and  the 
hand  was  pinned  to  the  left  side,  and  the  inmost  seat 
of  breath  is  rent  asunder  by  the  deadly  wound.  There 
stood  the  son  of  Arcens  in  conspicuous  armor,  his 
scarf  embroidered  with  needlework,  in  the  glory  of 
Hiberian  purple,  fair  of  form,  sent  to  war  by  his  father 
Arcens,  who  had  reared  him  in  his  mother's  grove  by 
the  streams  of  Symaethus,  where  stands  Palicus'  rich 
and  gracious  altar :  flinging  his  spears  aside,  Mezen- 
tius  whirled  the  strained  thong  of  the  whizzing  sling 
thrice  round  his  head,  and  with  the  molten  bullet 
burst  in  twain  the  forehead  of  the  fronting  foe,  and 
stretched  him  at  full  length  on  the  expanse  of  sand. 

Then  first,  they  say,  Ascanius  leveled  in  war  his 
winged  arrow,  used  till  then  to  terrify  the  beasts  of 
chase,  and  laid  low  by  strength  of  hand  the  brave 
Numanus,  Remulus  by  surname,  who  had  lately  won 
and  wedded  Turnus'  younger  sister.  He  was  stalking 
in  front  of  the  host,  vaunting  aloud  things  meet  and 
unmeet  to  tell,  in  the  insolence  of  new-blown  ro3"alty, 
and  venting  his  pride  in  clamorous  tones :  '  Are  ye 
not  ashamed  to  be  imprisoned  yet  again  in  leaguer  and 
rampart,  twice-captured  Phrygians,  and  to  put  your 
walls  between  you  and  death?  Lo,  these  are  the 
men  who  demand  our  wives  at  the  sword's  edge ! 
What  god,  what  madness,  has  driven  you  to  Italy? 
You  will  not  find  the  Atridse  here,  nor  Ulysses  the 
forger  of  speech.  A  hardy  race  even  from  the  stock, 
we  bring  our  sons  soon  as  born  to  the  river's  side, 
and  harden  them  with  the  water's  cruel  cold.  Our 
boys  spend  long  days  in  the  chase,  and  weary  out  the 
forest ;  their  sport  is  to  rein  the  steed,  and  level  shafts 
from  the  bow.     Our  youth,  strong  to  labor  and  schooled 


BOOK  IX.  •  361 

by  want,  subdues  the  earth  with  the  rake,  or  shakes 
the  city's  walls  with  battle.  All  our  life  we  ply  the 
steel ;  with  the  butt  of  our  spears  we  belabor  our  cattle ; 
old  age,  which  dulls  all  else,  impairs  not  the  force  of 
our  hearts  or  changes  our  fresh  vigor ;  the  hoary  head 
is  clasped  by  the  helmet ;  our  constant  joy  is  to  bring 
home  new  booty  and  live  by  rapine.  Yours  are  em- 
broidered garments  of  saffron  and  gleaming  purple ; 
sauntering  and  sloth  are  your  delight ;  your  pleasure  is 
to  indulge  the  dance ;  j^our  tunics  have  sleeves  and 
your  turbans  strings.  Phrygian  dames  in  sooth  —  for 
Phrj'gian  men  ye  are  not  —  get  you  to  the  heights  of 
Dindymus,  where  the  pipe  utters  its  two-doored  note 
to  3'our  accustomed  ears.  The  Idsean  mother's  cym- 
bals,  the  Berecyntian  flute  are  calling  you  to  the  revel ; 
leave  arms  to  men,  and  meddle  no  more  with  steel.' 

Such  boasting  and  such  ill-omened  talk  Ascanius 
could  bear  no  longer  ;  setting  his  breast  to  the  bow-string 
of  horsehair  he  leveled  his  dart,  and  drawing  his  arms 
wide  apart  he  stood,  having  first  invoked  Jove  thus  in 
suppliant  prayer :  '  Jove  Almighty,  smile  on  my  bold 
essaj^ ;  with  my  own  hand  I  will  bring  to  thy  temple 
yearly  offerings,  and  will  set  before  thine  altar  a  bul- 
lock with  gilded  brow,  snowy  white,  rearing  his  head 
to  the  height  of  his  mother's,  fit  to  butt  with  the  horn 
and  spurn  up  sand  with  the  hoof.'  The  father  heard 
and  from  a  cloudless  quarter  of  the  sky  thundered  on 
the  left ;  at  the  same  instant  twanged  the  deadly  bow. 
Forth  flies  the  arrow  from  the  string,  whizzing  fearfully, 
passes  through  the  head  of  Remulus,  and  cleaves  with 
its  point  his  hollow  temples.  *  Go,  make  valor  the 
sport  of  your  boasting ;  the  twice-captured  Phrygians 
answer  the  Rutulians  thus.'  So  far  Ascanius :  the 
Teucrians  second  him  with  a  cry,  shout  for  joy,  and 


362  •        THE  jENEID. 

mount  heavenward  in  their  exultation.  It  chanced  that 
then  in  the  realm  of  skj^  long-haired  Apollo  was  sur- 
veying the  armies  of  Ausonia  and  the  city,  seated  on  a 
cloud ;  and  thus  addressed  lulus  in  the  moment  of 
triumph :  '  Rejoice,  brave  youth,  in  your  new- won  lau- 
rels ;  'tis  thus  men  climb  the  stars ;  son  of  gods  that 
are,  sire  of  gods  that  shall  be!  Well  has  Fate 
ordered  that  beneath  the  house  of  Assaracus  the 
wars  of  the  future  shall  find  their  end  ;  nor  can  Troy 
contain  your  prowess.'  So  saying  he  shoots  down  from 
heaven,  parts  before  him  the  breathing  gales,  and 
makes  for  Ascanius.  He  changes  his  features  to  those 
of  ancient  Butes,  who  had  once  been  armor-bearer  to 
Dardanian  Anchises  and  trusty  watcher  at  the  gate ; 
thence  Ascanius'  sire  made  him  his  son's  guardian. 
Apollo  moved  along,  in  all  things  like  the  aged  veteran, 
the  voice,  the  color,  the  white  locks,  the  fiercel}^  clank- 
ing armor  ;  and  thus  he  spoke  to  lulus'  glowing  heart : 
'  Suffice  it,  child  of  ^neas,  that  Numanus  Jias  met 
from  your  darts  an  unrequited  death :  this  your 
maiden  glory  great  Apollo  vouchsafes  3'ou  freel}',  nor 
looks  with  jealousy  on  weapons  like  his  own ;  for  the 
rest  abstain  from  war,  as  stripling  should.'  So  Apollo 
began,  and  ere  his  speech  was  well  done  parted  from 
mortal  eyes,  and  vanished  from  sight  into  unsubstantial 
air.  The  Dardan  chiefs  knew  the  god  and  his  divine 
artillery,  and  heard  his  quiver  hurtle  as  he  fled.  So 
now  at  Phoebus'  present  instance  they  check  Ascanius' 
ardor  for  battle ;  themselves  take  their  place  in  the 
combat  once  more,  and  fling  their  lives  into  the  jaws 
of  danger.  All  over  the  walls  passes  the  shout  from 
rampart  to  rampart;  they  bend  their  sharp-springing 
bows  and  hurl  their  lashed  javelins  —  the  ground  is  all 
strewn  with  darts  ;  shields  and  hollow  helms  ring  with 


BOOK  IX.  363 

blow  on  blow ;  a  savage  combat  is  aroused ;  fierce  as 
the  rain  coming  from  the  west  at  the  setting  of  the 
showery  kid-stars  scourges  the  earth,  plenteous  as  the 
hail  which  the  storm-clouds  discharge  into  the  sea, 
when  Jove  in  the  sullenness  of  southern  blasts  whirls 
the  watery  tempest  and  bursts  the  misty  chambers  of 
the  sky. 

Pandarus  and  Bitias,  sons  of  Idsean  Alcanor,  brought 
up  by  Isera  the  wood-nj^mph  in  the  grove  of  Jupiter, 
youths  tall  as  the  pines  and  peaks  of  their  birthplace, 
throw  open  the  gate,  which  the  general's  order  placed  in 
their  charge,  relying  on  their  good  steel,  and  invite  the 
foe  to  enter  the  town.  Themselves  within  right  and 
left  stand  before  the  bulwarks,  sheathed  in  iron,  the 
crest  waving  on  their  lofty  heads :  even  as  high  in  air 
beside  the  flowing  streams,  on  Padus'  banks  it  may  be 
or  by  pleasant  Athesis,  uptower  two  oaks,  raising  to 
heaven  their  unshorn  summits  and  nodding  their  lofty 
crowns.  In  rush  the  Rutulians  when  they  see  the  entry 
clear.  In  a  moment  Quercens  and  Aquicolus  in  his 
briUiant  armor  and  headlong  Tmarus  and  Hsemon, 
scion  of  Mars,  with  all  their  followers  are  routed  and 
turned  to  flight,  or  on  the  threshold  of  the  gate  have 
resigned  their  lives.  At  this  the  wrath  of  the  com- 
batants flames  yet  higher,  and  the  Trojans  rally  and 
muster  in  one  spot  and  venture  to  engage  hand  to  hand 
and  to  advance  farther  into  the  plain. 

Turnus,  the  chief,  while  venting  his  rage  elsewhere 
and  scattering  ranks  of  warriors,  hears  tidings  that  the 
foe,  fevered  by  the  taste  of  blood,  has  thrown  the 
gates  open.  He  leaves  the  work  he  had  begun,  and 
stirred  with  giant  fury  hastens  to  the  Dardan  gate  and 
the  two  haughty  brethren.  Hurling  his  dart,  he  first 
slays  Antiphates,  who  happened   first  to  meet  him, 


364  THE  ^NEID, 

bastard  son  of  great  Sarpedon  by  a  Theban  mother ; 
the  shaft  of  Italian  cornel  flies  through  the  yielding  air, 
and  lodging  in  the  throat  goes  deep  down  into  the 
chest;  the  wound's  dark  pit  spouts  forth  a  foaming 
torrent,  and  the  cold  steel  grows  warm  in  the  lungs  it 
pierces.  Then  with  strong  hand  he  slays  Merops  and 
Erymas  and  then  Aphidnus,  then  Bitias  with  his  blaz- 
ing eyes  and  his  boiling  valor  —  not  with  a  dart,  for  to 
a  dart  he  would  not  have  surrendered  his  life  —  no  ;  it 
was  a  whirled  phalaric  lance  that  came  hurtling  fiercely, 
shot  like  a  thunderbolt,  which  neither  two  bulls'  hides 
nor  a  trusty  corselet  with  double  golden  plait  could 
withstand :  the  massive  limbs  sink  and  fall :  earth 
groans,  and  the  vast  buckler  thunders  on  the  body. 
Even  thus  sometimes  on  Baiae's  Euboean  coast  falls  a 
pile  of  stone,  which  men  compact  with  mighty  blocks 
and  then  fling  into  the  sea ;  thus  it  comes  down  with 
protracted  headlong  ruin,  and  dashing  on  the  shallows 
settles  into  its  place  ;  the  sea  is  all  disturbed,  and  the 
murky  sand  rises  to  the  surface  >  the  crash  shakes 
Prochyta  to  her  depths,  and  Inarime's  rugged  bed,  laid 
by  Jove's  command  upon  Typhoeus. 

Now  Mars,  the  lord  of  arms,  inspires  the  Latians 
with  strength  and  courage,  and  plants  his  stings  deep 
in  their  bosoms,  while  among  the  Teucrians  he  sends 
Flight  and  grisly  Terror.  They  flock  from  this  side 
and  from  that,  now  that  scope  for  battle  is  given,  and 
the  warrior  god  comes  down  on  their  souls.  When 
Pandarus  saw  his  brother's  corpse  laid  low,  and  knew 
the  posture  of  fortune  and  the  chance  that  was  sway- 
ing the  da}^,  with  a  mighty  eflfort  he  turns  the  gate  on 
its  hinge,  pushing  with  his  broad  shoulders,  and  leaves 
outside  many  of  his  comrades  shut  out  from  the  camp 
all  in  the  cruel  battle,  while  others  he  shuts  in  with 


BOOK  IX.  865 

himself,  admitting  them  as  they  stream  onward — mad- 
man, to  have  failed  to  see  the  king  of  the  Rutulians  in 
the  middle  of  the  company  storming  in,  and  to  have 
shut  him  wantonly  within  the  walls,  like  a  monstrous 
tiger  among  a  herd  of  helpless  cattle  !  On  the  instant 
a  strange  light  flashed  from  the  eyes  of  the  foe,  and  his 
arms  gave  a  fearful  clang;  on  his  helm  quivers  his 
crest,  red  as  blood,  and  from  his  shield  he  darts  gleam- 
ing lightnings.  With  sudden  confusion  the  children 
of  u^neas  recognize  that  hated  form  and  those  giant 
limbs.  Then  forth  springs  mighty  Pandarus,  and  with 
all  the  glow  of  wrath  for  his  brother's  death  bespeaks 
him  thus ;  '  This  is  not  the  bridal  palace  of  Amata,  nor 
is  it  Ardea  that  embraces  Turnus  in  the  walls  of  his 
fathers  ;  the  enemy's  camp  is  before  you ;  all  escape  is 
barred.'  To  him  Turnus,  smiling  in  quiet  mood: 
'  Begin,  if  you  have  courage,  and  engage  in  combat. 
Priam  shall  learn  from  you  that  here  too  you  have  found 
an  Achilles.'  Thus  he  :  Pandarus,  with  the  full  strain 
of  his  power,  hurls  his  spear,  rugged  with  knots  and 
unpeeled  bark.  It  was  launched  on  the  air ;  but 
Saturhian  Juno  turned  aside  the  coming  wound,  and 
the  spear  lodged  in  the  gate.  '  But  this  my  weapon 
you  shall  not  escape,  swayed  as  it  is  by  my  hand's  full 
force  ;  he  from  whom  wound  and  weapon  come  is  too 
strong  for  that.'  So  cries  Turnus,  and  rises  high  upon 
his  lifted  sword,  and  cleaves  with  the  steel  the  fore- 
head in  twain  full  between  the  temples,  parting  beard- 
less cheek  from  cheek  with  a  ghastlj^  wound.  A  crash 
is  heard :  earth  is  shaken  by  the  enormous  weight :  the 
unnerved  limbs,  the  arms  splashed  with  gore  and  brain 
are  stretched  in  death  on  the  ground  ;  and  the  head, 
shared  in  equal  parts,  hangs  right  and  left  from  either 
shoulder.     The  routed  Trojans  fly  here  and  there  in 


366  THE  jENEID. 

wildering  terror,  and  had  the  thought  at  once  seized 
the  conqueror  to  burst  the  gates  by  main  force  and 
give  entrance  to  his  friends,  that  day  would  have  ended 
a  war  and  a  nation  both.  But  rage  and  mad  thirst 
for  blood  drove  him  in  fury  on  the  foe  before  him. 
First  he  surprises  Phalaris  and  hamstrings  Gyges ; 
plucks  forth  spears  and  hurls  them  on  the  backs  of  the 
fliers ;  Juno  gives  supplies  of  strength  and  courage. 
He  sends  Halys  to  join  them  and  Phegeus,  pierced 
through  the  shield,  and  cuts  down  others  as  they  stand 
unconscious  on  the  walls  and  stir  up  the  battle,  Alcan- 
der  and  Halius,  and  Noemon  and  Prytanis.  As  Lj-n- 
ceus  moved  to  meet  him  and  calls  on  his  comrades, 
with  a  sweep  of  his  arm  from  the  rampart  on  his  right 
he  catches  him  with  his  whirling  sword  ;  swept  off  by  a 
single  blow  hand  to  hand,  the  head  with  the  helmet  on 
it  lay  yards  awa}- .  Next  falls  Amycus,  the  ravager  of 
the  forest  brood,  than  who  was  never  man  more  skilled 
to  anoint  the  dart  and  arm  the  steel  with  venom,  and 
Clytius,  son  of  JEolus,  and  Cretheus,  darling  of  the 
Muses,  Cretheus  the  Muses'  playmate,  whose  delight 
was  ever  in  minstrelsy  and  harp,  and  in  stringing  notes 
on  the  chord ;  songs  of  chargers  and  warrior  arms  and 
battles  were  ever  on  his  lips. 

At  last  the  Teucrian  leaders,  hearing  of  the  slaughter 
of  their  men,  come  together  to  the  spot,  Mnestheus 
and  keen  Serestus,  when  they  see  their  comrades  flying 
in  confusion,  and  the  foe  lodged  in  the  camp.  Out 
cries  Mnestheus  :  '  Whither  now,  whither  are  ye  mak- 
ing in  flight?  what  further  city  have  ye,  what  walls 
beyond?  Shall  it  be  said  that  a  single  man,  and  he 
too,  my  countrymen,  hemmed  in  on  all  hands  by  your 
ramparts,  has  spread  unavenged  such  havoc  through 
your  streets,  has  sent  down  to  death  so  many  of  your 


BOOK  IX.  367 

bravest  ?  As  ye  think  of  your  unhappy  country,  your 
ancient  gods,  your  great  ^neas,  is  there  no  pity,  no 
shame  in  your  skiggish  hearts  ?'  Roused  by  these 
words  they  rally  and  halt  in  close  arra3^  Turnus  step 
by  step  withdraws  from  the  fight,  making  for  the  river 
and  the  part  round  which  the  water  runs.  All  the 
more  keenly  the  Teucrians  press  on  him  with  loud 
shouts  and  close  their  ranks :  as  when  a  compan}^  of 
hunters  bears  down  on  a  savage  lion  javelin  in  hand : 
he,  struck  with  fear,  yet  fierce  and  glaring  angrily, 
gives  ground ;  wrath  and  courage  suffer  him  not  to  turn 
his  back,  nor  yet  may  he  charge,  though  he  fain  would 
do  so,  through  the  huntsmen  and  the  spears.  Not 
unlike  to  him  Turnus  in  doubt  retraces  his  lingering 
footsteps,  while  his  heart  boils  with  rage.  Even  then 
twice  had  he  dashed  on  the  thick  of  the  foe,  twice  he 
drives  their  ranks  in  huddled  flight  round  the  walls ; 
but  the  whole  army  musters  in  a  body  from  the  camp, 
nor  dares  Saturnian  Juno  suppl}^  him  with  strength  to 
oppose  them  ;  for  Jove  sent  down  from  the  sk}^  celes- 
tial Iris,  with  no  gentle  message  for  his  sister's  ear,  if 
Turnus  retire  not  from  the  Teucrians'  lofty  ramparts. 
So  now  the  warrior  cannot  hold  his  own  with  shield  or 
sword  ;  such  a  deluge  of  darts  overwhelms  him.  Round 
his  hollow  temples  the  helmet  echoes  with  ceaseless 
ringing ;  the  solid  plates  of  brass  give  way  beneath  the 
stones ;  the  horsehair  crest  is  struck  from  his  head ; 
his  shield's  boss  cannot  stand  the  blows ;  faster  and 
faster  the}"  hail  their  spears,  the  Trojans  and  fiery 
Mnestheus.  Over  all  his  frame  flows  the  sweat  and 
trickles  in  a  murk}^  stream,  while  breathe  he  cannot; 
his  sinking  limbs  are  shaken  with  feeble  panting.  At 
last  with  headlong  leap  he  plunged  arms  and  all  into 
the  river.     Tiber  with  his  yellow  gulf  received  the 


368  THE  jENEID. 

guest,  upbore  him  on  his  buoyant  waves,  and  washing 
off  the  stains  of  carnage,  restored  him  in  joy  to  his 
friends. 


BOOK  X. 

Meantime  the  palace  of  strong  Olympus  is  thrown 
open,  and  the  sire  of  gods  and  monarch  of  men  sum- 
mons a  council  to  the  starry  chamber,  whence,  throned 
on  high,  he  looks  down  on  the  length  and  breadth  of 
earth,  the  camp  of  the  Dardans  and  the  people  of  La- 
tium.  »  They  take  their  seats  in  the  double-gated  man- 
sion ;  he  himself  opens  the  court :  '  Mighty  denizens  of 
heaven,  wherefore  is  your  judgment  turned  backward, 
and  whence  such  discord  in  your  unkindly  souls?  I 
had  forbidden  that  Italy  should  meet  the  Teucrians  in 
the  shock  of  war.  What  strife  is  this  in  defiance  of  my 
law  ?  What  terror  has  prompted  these  or  those  to  draw 
the  sword  and  provoke  the  fight?  There  shall  come  a 
rightful  time  for  combat  —  no  need  for  you  to  hasten  it 
—  when  fierce  Carthage  on!  day  shall  launch  on  the 
hills  of  Rome  mighty  ruin  and  the  opening  of  Alpine 
barriers.  Then  will  your  rancors  be  free  to  contend, 
your  hands  to  plunder  and  ravage  ;  for  the  present  let 
be,  and  cheerfully  ratify  the  peace  that  I  have  willed.' 

Thus  Jupiter  in  brief ;  but  not  brief  was  the  answer 
of  golden  Venus  :  '  O  Father  !  O  eternal  sovereignty  of 
man  and  nature !  for  what  else  can  there  be  which  is 
left  us  to  implore?  Seest  thou  how  the  Rutulians 
insult  ?  how  Turnus  is  whirled  through  the  battle  by  his 
haught}^  coursers,  borne  on  the  flood-tide  of  war?  No 
longer  are  the  Teucrians  safe  even  in  the  shelter  of  their 


BOOK  X.  369 

walls  ;  within  the  gates,  amidst  the  very  mounds  of  the 
ramparts  combat  is  waged,  and  the  trenches  overflow 
with  carnage,  ^neas  is  awa^^  in  his  ignorance.  Wilt 
thou  never  let  us  have  respite  from  siege  ?  Once  more 
the  enemy  is  stooping  over  the  walls  of  our  infant  Tro}^ 
with  a  second  army ;  once  more  T3'deus'  son  from  his 
^tolian  Arpi  is  rising  against  the  Teucrians.  Ay,  ray 
wounds,  I  ween,  are  yet  in  the  future,  and  I,  thine  own 
offspring,  am  delaying  the  destined  course  of  a  mortal 
spear.  If  it  is  without  youx  leave  and  despite  your 
will  that  the  Trojans  have  won  their  way  to  Italy,  let 
them  expiate  the  crime  and  withdraw  from  them  thine 
aid  :  but  if  they  have  but  followed  those  many  oracles 
given  by  powers  above  and  powers  underground,  how 
can  any  now  be  able  to  reverse  thine  ordinance  and 
write  anew  the  page  of  fate?  Why  should  I  remind 
thee  of  our  fleet  consumed  on  Er^x'  shore?  why  of 
the  monarch  of  the  storms  and  his  raving  winds  stirred 
up  from  -3^olia,  oi*  of  Iris  sent  down  from  the  clouds  ? 
Now  she  is  even  rousing  the  ghosts  below  —  that  por- 
tion of  the  world  till  then  was  untried  —  and  on  a  sud- 
den Alecto  is  launched  on  upper  air,  and  rages  through 
the  Italian  cities.  It  is  not  for  empire  that  I  am  dis- 
quieted ;  for  that  we  hoped  in  the  past,  while  our  star 
3' et  shone  :  let  them  conquer  whom  thou  wouldst  have 
conquer.  If  there  is  no  country  on  earth  which  thj^ 
relentless  spouse  will  allow  the  Teucrians,  I  adjure  thee, 
father,  by  the  smoking  ruins  of  Troy  overthrown,  let 
me  send  away  Ascanius  safe  from  the  war  —  let  m}' 
grandson  survive  in  life,  ^neas,  indeed,  may  be  tossed 
on  unknown  waters,  and  follow  such  course  as  chance 
ma\^  give  him :  Mm  let  me  have  the  power  to  screen 
and  withdraw  from  the  horrors  of  battle.  Amathus  is 
mine,  and  lofty  Paphos,  and  high  Cythera,  and  the  man- 
24 


370  THE  yENEID. 

sion  of  Idalia :  there  let  him  pass  his  days  unwarlike 
and  inglorious.  Let  it  be  thy  will  that  Carthage  shall 
bow  Ausonia  beneath  her  tyrannous  swaj^ ;  the  Tyriaii 
cities  need  fear  no  resistance  from  him.  What  has  it  ad- 
vantaged him  to  have  escaped  the  plague  of  war  and  fled 
through  the  hottest  of  the  Argive  fires,  to  have  drained 
to  the  dregs  all  those  dangers  b}^  sea  and  on  broad 
earth,  while  the  Teucrians  are  in  quest  of  Latium  and 
a  restored  Pergamus  ?  Give  back,  great  sire,  to  our 
wretched  nation  their  Xanthus  and  their  Simois,  and 
let  the  Teucrians  enact  once  more  the  old  traged}'  of 
Ilium.'  Then  out  spoke  queenly  Juno,  goaded  by 
fierce  passion  :  '  Why  force  you  me  to  break  my  deep 
silence,  and  give  forth  in  words  my  buried  grief  ?  Your 
-^neas  —  was  it  any  man  or  god  that  compelled  him  to 
draw  the  sword,  and  come  down  as  a  foe  on  the  Latian 
king?  Grant  that  he  went  to  Italy  at  the  instance  of 
fate,  at  the  impulse,  in  truth,  of  mad  Cassandra  ;  was  it 
our  counsel  that  he  should  leave  his  cfamp  and  place  his 
life  at  the  mercy  of  the  winds  ?  that  he  should  trust  the 
control  of  battle  and  his  cit}^  to  a  boy  —  should  tamper 
with  Tyrrhenian  loyalty  and  stir  up  a  quiet  nation? 
What  god,  what  cruel  tyranny  of  ours  drove  him  thither 
to  his  hurt?  is  there  a  trace  of  Juno  here,  or  of  Iris 
sent  down  from  the  clouds  ?  Ay,  it  is  foul  shame  that 
the  Italians  should  throw  a  belt  of  flame  round  the 
infant  Troy — that  Turnus  should  plant  a  foot  on  the 
soil  of  his  fathers,  Turnus,  whose  grandsire  was  Pilum- 
nus,  whose  mother  the  goddess  Yenilia.  How  call  you 
it  for  the  Trojans  to  invade  Latium  with  their  smoking 
torches,  to  put  their  3  oke  on  a  country  that  is  none  of 
theirs,  and  harry  away  its  plunder  —  to  choose  at  will 
those  whose  daughters  they  would  wed,  and  drag  the 
plighted   bride  from  the   bosom— to  bear   suppliant 


BOOK  X,  371 

tokens  in  the  hand  and  arm  their  vessels  to  the  teeth? 
You  have  power  to  withdraw  -^neas  from  the  hands  of 
the  Greeks,  and  offer  them  clouds  and  thin  winds  for 
the  man  they  seek  —  power  to  turn  a  fleet  of  ships  into 
a  bevy  of  Nymphs  ;  and  is  it  utterly  monstrous  for  us 
to  give  the  Rutulians  a  measure  of  aid  in  return? 
-^neas  is  away  in  ignorance,  and  in  ignorance  let  him 
bide  away.  You  have  your  Paphos,  j'our  IdaHum,  3'our 
lofty  Cythera :  why  meddle  with  a  cit}^  brimming  with 
war  and  with  ungentle  hearts  ?  Is  it  we  that  are  labor- 
ing to  overturn  from  the  foundation  your  feeble  Phrj-- 
gian  fortunes?  We?  or  the  gallant  who  brought  Greece 
down  on  the  wretched  Trojans?  What  reason  was 
there  that  Europe  and  Asia  should  stand  up  to  fight, 
and  a  league  be  broken  by  treachery  ?  Did  I  lead  your 
Dardan  leman  to  take  Sparta  by  storm  ?  did  I  put 
weapons  in  his  hand,  or  fan  the  flame  of  war  with  the 
gales  of  love  ?  Then  had  there  been  decency  in  your 
fears  for  j^our  friends ;  now  you  are  rising  too  late 
with  unjust  complaints,  and  flinging  idly  the  language 
of  quarrel.' 

Such  was  the  appeal  of  Juno :  and  the  whole  body  of 
immortals  murmured  assent  on  this  side  or  on  that, 
like  new-born  gales  when  they  murmur,  caught  in  the 
forest,  and  roll  about  mysterious  sounds,  disclosing  to 
the  sailor  a  coming  storm.  Then  begins  the  almighty 
sire,  whose  is  the  chief  sovereignty  of  the  universe :  at 
opening  of  his  mouth  the  loft}-  palace  of  the  gods  grows 
still,  and  earth  shakes  to  her  foundations ;  silent  is 
the  height  of  ether ;  the  Zephyrs  are  sunk  to  rest, 
and  Ocean  subdues  its  waves  to  repose.  '  Take  then 
to  your  hearts  and  engrave  there  these  m}-  words : 
since  it  may  not  be  that  Ausonian  and  Teucrian  should 
be  united  by  treaty,  and  your  wranglings  brook  no  con- 


372  THE  jENEID. 

elusion,  be  eaeh  man's  fortune  to-daj^  what  it  may,  be 
the  span  of  each  man's  hope  long  or  short,  Trojan  or 
Rutulian,  I  will  show  favor  to  neither,  whether  it  be  by 
destiny  that  the  Italian  leaguer  encompasses  the  camp, 
or  by  Troy's  baneful  error  and  the  warnings  of  hostile 
intelhsrence.  Nor  leave  I  the  Rutulians  free.  Each 
man's  own  endeavors  shall  yield  him,  the  harvest  of 
labor  or  fortune.  Jove,  as  king,  is  alike  to  all.  Des- 
tiny shall  find  her  own  way.'  By  the  river  of  his  Sty- 
gian brother,  by  the  banks  that  seethe  with  pitch  and 
are  washed  by  the  murk}^  torrent,  he  nodded  confirma- 
tion, and  with  his  nod  made  all  Olympus  tremble.  So 
ended  their  debate.  Then  from  his  golden  throne  rises 
Jove,  and  the  immortals  gathering  round  him  usher  him 
4;o  his  chamber. 

Meantime  the  Rutulians  press  round  each  and  all  of 
the  gates,  eager  to  slaughter  the  soldiery  and  belt  the 
ramparts  with  flame.  But  Eneas'  army  is  hemmed 
within  the  leaguered  encampment  without  hope  of  es- 
cape. In  unavailing  wretchedness  they  stand  guarding 
the  turrets'  height,  and  form  a  thin  circle  round  the  walls. 
Asius  son  of  Imbrasus,  and  Hicetaon's  child  Thymoe- 
tes,  and  the  two  Assaraci,  and  Castor  and  aged  Thym- 
bris  are  their  front  rank ;  bj^  their  side  the  two  brethren 
of  Sarpedon,  Clarus  and  Themon  both,  come  from  noble 
Lycia.  There  is  one  carrying  with  the  whole  strain  of 
his  body  a  mighty  rock,  no  small  portion  of  a  mountain, 
Acmon  of  Lyrnessus,  a  worthy  peer  of  his  father  Cly- 
tius  and  his  brother  Mnestheus.  Some  repel  the  foe 
with  javelins,  some  with  stones ;  they  launch  the  fire- 
brand, they  fit  the  arrow  to  the  string.  In  the  midst 
is  he,  Venus'  most  rightful  care,  the  royal  boy  of  Dar- 
dany,  his  beauteous  head  uncovered  :  see  him  shine  like 
a  jewel  islanded  in  ^^ellow  gold,  an  ornament  for  neck 


BOOK  X.  373 

or  head,  or  as  gleams  ivory  set  by  artist  skill  in  box- 
wood or  Orician  terebinth:  his  flowing  hair  streams 
over  a  neck  of  milky  white  and  is  gathered  up  by  a 
ring  of  ductile  gold.  Thou,  too,  Ismarus,  wast  seen 
b}'  tribes  of  warriors  dealing  wounds  abroad  and  arm- 
ing thy  arrows  with  venom,  gallant  branch  of  a  Lydian 
house,  from  the  land  whose  rich  soil  is  broken  up  by 
the  husbandmen  and  washed  b}'  Pactolus'  golden 
stream.  Mnestheus,  too,  Was  there,  whom  yesterday's 
triumph  over  Turnus  repulsed  from  the  rampart  exalts 
to  the  stars,  and  Capys,  who  gives  his  name  to  Cam- 
pania's mother  city. 

So  they  on  this  side  and  on  that  had  waged  all  day 
the  conflict  of  stubborn  war ;  and  now  at  midnight 
-^neas  was  ploughing  the  main.  For  soon  as,  leaving 
Evander,  he  entered  the  Etruscan  camp,  accosted  the 
king,  and  told  him  of  his  name  and  his  race,  for  what 
he  sues  and  what  he  ofl'ers,  explains  what  arms  Mezen- 
tius  musters  on  his  side,  and  what  the  excess  of  Tur- 
nus' violence,  warns  him  how  little  faith  man  can  place 
in  fortune,  and  seconds  reasoning  by  entreaty,  without 
a  moment's  pause,  Tarchon  combines  his  forces  and 
strikes  a  truce ;  and  at  once,  freed  from  the  spell  of 
destinj^,  the  Lydian  race  embarks  according  to  heaven's 
ordinance,  under  the  charge  of  a  foreign  leader.  First 
sails  the  vessel  of  JEneas,  Phr^-gian  lions  harnessed  on 
the  prow  ;  above  them-  Ida  spreads  her  shade,  of  hap- 
piest augury  to  exiled  Troy.  There  sits  great  ^neas, 
brooding  over  the  doubtful  future  of  the  war :  and 
Pallas,  close  cleaving  to  his  left  side,  keeps  questioning 
liim,  now  of  the  stars,  the  road-marks  of  the  shadowy 
night,  and  now  all  that  he  has  borne  by  land  and  by 
sea. 

Now,'  ye  goddesses,  open  wide   your  Helicon,  and 


374  THE  jENEID. 

stir  up  the  powers  of  song,  to  tell  ns  what  the  army 
now  following  ^neas  from  the  Tuscan  shores,  equip- 
ping its  ships  for  adventure,  and  sailing  over  the  sea. 

First  comes  Massicus,  cleaving  the  waters  in  his 
brass-sheathed  Tiger :  in  his  train  a  band  of  a  thousand 
warriors,  who  have  left  the  walls  of  Clusium  and  the 
city  Cosse ;  their  weapons  a  sheaf  of  arrows,  light 
quivers  for  the  shoulder,  and  a  bow  of  deadly  aim. 
With  him  grim  Abas :  his  whole  band  ablaze  with 
gleaming  armor,  his'  vessel  shining  with  a  gilded 
Apollo.  Populonia  had  sent  him  six  hundred  of  her 
sons,  all  versed  in  war :  Ilva  three  hundred,  an  island 
rich  in  the  Chalybes'  unexhausted  mines.  Third  comes 
Asilas,  the  great  interpreter  'tween  gods  and  men,  at 
whose  bidding  are  the  victims'  entrails,  the  stars  of  the 
sk}',  the  tongues  ofi  augurial  birds,  and  the  flame  of 
the  prophetic  lightning.  With  him  hurry  a  thousand 
in  close  array,  bristling  with  spears  —  subjected  to  his 
command  by  the  town  of  Pisa,  which,  sprung  from 
Alpheus,  took  root  on  Etruscan  soil.  After  these  is 
Astur,  fairest  of  form,  Astur,  proud  of  his  steed  and 
his  glancing  armor.  Three  hundred  follow  him,  all 
with  one  lo^^al  soul,  from  those  who  dwell  in  Caere  and 
in  the  plains  of  Minio,  in  ancient  P3'rgi,  and  Gravisca's 
tainted  air. 

I  would  not  leave  thee  unsung,  bravest  chief  of  the 
Ligurians,  Cinyras,  or  Cupavo  with  scanty  retinue, 
whose  helmet  is  surmounted  by  plumage  of  the  swan : 
love  was  your  joint  crime  ;  for  love  3'ou  wear  the  cogni- 
zance of  your  father's  form.  For  legend  tells  that 
Cycnus,  all  for  grief  over  his  darling  Phaethon,  while 
in  the  poplar  shade  and  the  leafage  of  the  brotherless 
sisters  he  keeps  singing  and  consoling  his  sad  passion 
by  the  Muses'  aid,  drew  over  his  form  the  soft  plumage 


BOOK  X.  376 

of  downj^  eld,  mounting  up  from  earth  and  sending  his 
voice  before  him  to  the  stars.  His  son,  with  a  band  of 
martial  peers  sailing  at  his  side,  propels  with  his  oars 
the  enormous  Centaur:  the  monster  stands  lowering 
over  the  water,  and  threatens  the  billows  with  a  huge 
rock  from  his  towering  eminence,  as  he  ploughs  the 
deep  sea  with  the  length  of  his  keel. 

Great  Ocnus  too  is  leading  an  army  from  the  coasts 
of  his  fathers,  Ocnus,  son  of  Manto  the  prophetess  and 
the  Etruscan  river,  who  bestowed  On  thee,  Mantua,  thy 
city  walls  and  the  name  of  his  mother,  Mantua  rich  in 
ancestral  glories :  but  not  all  her  sons  of  the  same  blood  ; 
three  races  are  there,  and  under  each  race  range  four 
nations  :  herself  the  queen  of  the  nations,  her  strength 
from  Etruscan  blood.  Hence,  too,  Mezentius  draws 
against  his  life  five  hundred  unfriendly  swords  —  Min- 
cius,  child  of  Benacus,  with  his  gray  covering  of  reeds, 
ushers  into  the  deep  their  hostile  bark. 

On  moves  strong  Aulestes,  lashing  the  water  as  he 
rises  with  the  stroke  of  a  hundred  oars  :  the  sea  spouts 
foam  from  its  upturned  surface.  His  bearer  is  a  huge 
Triton,  whose  shell  strikes  terror  into  the  green  bil- 
lows :  his  shaggy  front,  breasting  the  water,  down  to  the 
side  bespeaks  the  man  ;  the  belly  ends  in  a  sea-mon- 
ster:  under  the  half  bestial  bosom  the  wave  froths  and 
roars. 

So  many  chosen  chiefs  were  journeying  in  thirty  ves- 
sels to  the  succor  of  Troy,  and  ploughing  with  brazen 
beak  the  expanse  of  brine. 

And  now  the  da}'  had  withdrawn  from  the  sky,  and 
gracious  Dian  was  trampling  over  the  cope  of  heaven 
with  her  night-flying  steeds  :  ^neas  the  while,  for  care 
refuses  slumber  to  his  frame,  is  seated  at  his  post,  him- 
self guiding  the  rudder  and  trimming  the  sail  —  when 


376  THE  ^NEID. 

lo !  in  the  middle  of  his  voyage  he  is  met  by  a  fair 
bevy  of  comrades  of  his  own :  the  Nymphs  whom  gra- 
cious Cj^bele  had  invested  with  the  deity  of  the  sea, 
and  changed  from  ships  to  goddesses,  were  swimming 
abreast  and  cleaving  the  billow,  a  nymph  for  each  of 
the  brazen  prows  that  erst  had  lined  the  shore.  Far 
off  they  recognize  their  king,  and  come  dancing  round 
him  in  state :  C^modoce,  their  skillfullest  in  speech, 
swimming  up  behind,  lays  her  right  hand  on  the  stern, 
herself  lifted  breast-high  above  the  water,  while  with 
her  left  she  paddles  in  the  noiseless  wave.  Then  thus 
she  breaks  on  his  wondering  ear :  '  Wake  you,  -^neas, 
seed  of  the  gods?  be  wakeful  still,  and  let  the  sail- 
ropes  go.  "We  it  is  you  see,  pines  of  Ida  from  the 
sacred  summit,  Sea-nymphs  now,  your  sometime  fleet. 
When  the  false  Rutulian  was  hot  at  our  backs  with  fire 
and  sword,  reluctantly  we  burst  your  bonds,  and  are 
now  in  full  quest  of  3'ou  over  the  sea.  This  new  shape 
the  great  mother  gave  us  in  her  pitj^,  and  granted  us 
the  state  of  goddesses  and  lives  to  lead  beneath  the 
water.  Meantime  young  Ascanius  is  hemmed  in  by 
rampart  and  trench,  with  serried  weapons  all  around 
him,  and  Latians  bristling  with  battle.  Already  the 
Arcadian  horse  mixed  with  the  brave  Etruscan  has 
gained  the  appointed  spot :  to  bar  their  way  with  an 
intervening  host  and  cut  them  off  from  the  camp  is 
Turnus'  fixed  intent.  Rise,  and  with  the  earliest  ap- 
proach of  dawn  bid  your  allies  be  summoned  to  arms, 
and  take  in  hand  that  shield  which  the  Fire-god  him- 
self made  to  be  invincible  and  bordered  with  a  marge 
of  gold.  The  morrow's  sun,  if  you  will  but  give  cre- 
dence to  my  words,  shall  survey  might}'  heaps  of  Rutu- 
lian  carnage.'  Her  speech  was  done :  and  as  she 
parted  she  gave  with  her  hand  an  impulse  to  the  loftj^ 


BOOK  X.  377 

stern,  well  knowing  the  due  measure  of  force :  on  it 
speeds  over  the  wave,  fleeter  than  dart  and  wind-swift 
arrow  both.  The  rest  in  order  mend  their  speed. 
Wondering  he  pauses,  the  great  Trojan  of  Anchises' 
line,  yet  cheers  his  soul  with  the  omen.  Then,  looking 
to  the  vault  above,  he  prays  in  brief:  '  Gracious  mother 
of  the  gods,  lady  of  Ida,  whose  joy  is  in  Dindymus, 
and  in  turreted  cities  and  harnessed  lions  at  thy  bridle- 
rein,  be  thou  now  to  me  the  controller  of  the  fight,  do 
thou  bring  the  presage  nigh,  and  walk  beside  the  Phr}^- 
gians,  mighty  goddess,  with  favoring  step.'  Thus  much 
he  said :  and  meanwhile  day  was  returning  at  speed, 
with  its  light  grown  to  full  strength,  and  night  had 
vanished  before  it. 

First  he  gives  orders  to  his  comrades  to  obey  the 
heaventy  token,  and  nerve  their  souls  for  combat,  and 
make  ready  for  the  fight.  And  now  at  last  from  his 
station  on  the  tall  stern  he  has  the  Teucrians  and  his 
camp  in  view,  when  on  the  instant  his  blazing  shield  is 
raided  high  on  his  left  arm.  Up  goes  a  shout  to  heaven 
from  the  Dardans  on  their  ramparts  ;  the  gleam  of  hope 
quickens  wrath  to  fury  ;  they  hurl  a  shower  of  javelins : 
even  as  amid  dark  clouds  cranes  from  Str3'mon  give 
token,  sweeping  sonorously  over  the  sky,  and  flying 
from  the  southern  gale  with  sequacious  clamor.  But 
the  Rutulian  king  and  the  Ausonian  generals  wonder 
at  the  sight,  till,  looking  back,  they  behold  the  stems 
bearing  to  the  shore,  and  the  whole  water  floating  on 
with  vessels.  There  is  a  blaze  on  that  helmet's  sum- 
mit, and  from  the  crest  on  high  streams  the  flame,  and 
the  shield's  golden  boss  disgorges  mighty  fires,  even  as 
when  on  a  clear  night  blood-hued  comets  glare  with 
gloomy  red,  or  as  the  Sirian  blaze,  that  harbinger  of 


378  THE  yENEID. 

drought  and  sickness  to  weak  mortalit}',  breaks  into 
birth  and  saddens  heaven  with  its  ill-boding  ra3^s. 

Yet  pause  was  none  in  bold  Turnus'  confidence  to 
forestall  the  landing-place,  and  beat  off  the  comers  from 
the  shore.  His  words  are  read}^  at  the  moment  to  en- 
courage and  upbraid  :  '  See  here  the  occasion  3'ou  longed 
for,  to  break  through  them  at  the  sword's  point.  A 
brave  man's  hand  is  the  War-god's  chosen  seat.  Now 
let  each  remember  wife  and  home,  recall  the  mighty 
deeds  that  made  3'Our  fathers  great.  Let  us  meet  them 
at  once  at  the  water's  edge,  while  they  are  in  the  hurry 
of  landing,  and  the  foot  falters  in  its  first  tread  on 
shore.  Valor  has  Fortune  for  its  friend.'  So  saying, 
he  ponders  with  himself  whom  to  lead  to  the  attack, 
and  to  whom  he  ma}^  trust  the  leaguer  of  the  walls. 

Meanwhile  ^neas  is  landing  his  comrades  from  the 
tall  ship-sides  by  help  of  bridges.  Many  of  them  watch 
for  the  ebb  of  the  faihng  sea,  and  venture  a  leap  among 
the  shallows  ;  others  resort  to  the  oars.  Tarchon,  spying 
out  a  place  on  the  beach  where  the  waters  seethe  not 
nor  the  broken  billows  roar,  but  ocean  without  let 
glides  gently  up  the  shore  as  the  tide  advances,  sud- 
denly turns  his  prows  thither,  and  exhorts  his  crew : 
'  Now,  ye  chosen  band,  ply  your  stout  oars,  lift  the 
vessels  and  carry  them  home :  cleave  with  your  beaks 
this  land  that  hates  you ;  let  the  keel  plough  its  own 
furrow.  Even  from  shipwreck  in  a  roadstead  hke  this 
I  would  not  shrink,  could  I  once  get  hold  of  the  soil.' 
Tarchon  having  thus  said,  his  crew  rise  on  their  oars 
and  bear  down  on  the  Latian  plains  with  vessels  all 
foam,  till  the  beaks  have  gained  the  dry  land,  and  every 
keel  has  come  scatheless  to  its  rest.  Not  so  thy  ship, 
Tarchon  :  for  while  dashed  on  a  sand-bank  it  totters  on 
the  unequal  ridge,  poised  in  suspense  a  while,  and  buffet- 


BOOK  X.  379 

ing  the  waves,  its  sides  give  wa}-,  and  its  men  are  set 
down  in  the  midst  of  the  water:  broken  oars  and  float- 
ing benches  entangle  them,  and  their  feet  are  carried 
back  by  the  ebb  of  the  wave. 

No  sluggish  delay  holds  Turnus  from  his  work :  with 
fier}^  speed  he  sweeps  his  whole  army  against  the  Teu- 
crians,  and  plants  them  in  the  foe's  face  on  the  shore. 
The  clarions  sound :  first  dashed  ^neas  on  the  rustic 
ranks,  a  presage  of  the  fight's  fortune,  and  disarrayed 
the  Latians,  slaying  Theron,  who  in  his  giant  strength  is 
assailing  ^neas :  piercing  through  quilted  brass  and 
tunic  stiflT  with  gold  the  sword  devours  his  unguarded 
side.  Next  he  strikes  Lycus,  who  was  cut  from  the 
womb  of  his  dead  mother  and  consecrated  to  thee, 
Apollo,  because  his  bab}'  life  had  been  suffered  to 
scape  the  peril  of  the  steel.  Hard  by,  as  iron  Cisseus  and 
gigantic  Gyas  were  laying  low  his  host  with  their  clubs, 
he  casts  them  down  in  death :  naught  availed  them ; 
the  weapons  of  Hercules  or  strong  hands  to  wield  them  ; 
or  Melampus  their  sire,  Alcides'  constant  follower,  long 
as  earth  found  for  him  those  grievous  tasks.  See  there, 
as  Pharus  is  hurling  forth  words  without  deeds,  he 
flings  at  him  his  javelin  and  plants  it  in  the  bawler's 
mouth.  Thou,  too,  Cj'don,  while  following  with  ill- 
starred  quest  the  blooming  Clytius,  thj'  latest  jo}',  hadst 
lain  stretched  on  the  ground  by  the  Dardan  hand,  a 
piteous  spectacle,  at  rest  from  the  passions  that  were 
ever  in  thy  heart ;  but  thy  brethren  met  the  foe  in  close 
band,  the  progeny  of  Phorcus :  seven  their  number, 
seven  the  darts  they  throw ;  some  rebound  idl}^  from 
shield  and  helm,  some  as  they  grazed  the  frame  were 
turned  aside  b^^  Venus'  gentle  power.  Quick  spoke 
<^neas  to  true  Achates  ;  '  Give  me  store  of  weapons  ; 
not  one  shall  my  hand  hurl  in  vain  against  the  Rutu- 


380  THE  ^NEID, 

lians,  of  all  that  have  quivered  in  Grecian  flesh  on  the 
plains  of  Troy.'  With  that  he  seizes  his  mighty  spear 
and  launches  it :  flying  on  it  crashes  through  the  brass 
of  Mason's  shield  and  rends  breastplate  and  breast  at 
once.  Swift  comes  his  brother  Alcanor  and  props  with 
his  hand  the  falling  man :  piercing  the  arm  the  spear 
flies  onward  and  holds  its  bloody  course,  and  the  dying 
hand  dangles  b}^  the  sinews  from  the  shoulder-blade. 
Then  Numitor,  snatching  the  javelin  from  his  brother's 
bod}",  assails  JEneas ;  yet  it  might  not  lodge  in  the 
enemy's  front,  but  just  grazed  the  thigh  of  mighty 
Achates. 

Now  comes  Clausus  of  Cures  in  the  pride  of  his 
3'outhful  frame,  and  strikes  Dr3'ops  from  a  distance 
under  the  chin  with  the  strong  impact  of  his  stark 
spear,  and  piercing  his  throat,  robs  him  even  as  he 
speaks  of  life  and  breath  alike :  the  wounded  man 
strikes  the  earth  with-  his  forehead  and  vomits  from  his 
lips  clotted  blood.  Three,  too,  from  Thrace,  of  Boreas' 
noblest  lineage,  and  three  sent  to  battle  by  Idas  their 
sire  and  Ismarus  their  country,  he  lays  low  by  this 
chance  or  that.  To  his  side  runs  Halesus  and  the 
Auruncan  bands ;  comes  to  his  aid,  too,  the  seed  of 
Neptune,  steed-famed  Messapus.  Now  these,  now 
those,  strain  to  win  the  ground :  the  struggle  is  on 
Ausonia's  ver}^  threshold.  As  in  the  spacious  heaven 
jarring  winds  meet  in  battle,  alike  in  spirit  and  in 
strength,  winds,  storm-clouds,  and  ocean,  neither  fields 
to  the  other :  long  doubtful  hangs  the  fight ;  all  stand 
in  death-grips,  front  to  front :  even  such  the  meeting 
of  the  army  of  Troy  and  the  army  of  Latium :  foot  is 
set  close  to  foot,  and  man  massed  with  man. 

But  in  another  part  of  the  field,  where  a  torrent  had 
scattered  wide  whirling  stones  and  trees  uprooted  from 


BOOK  X.  381 

its  banks,  soon  as  Pallas  saw  his  Arcadians,  unused  to 
wage  war  on  foot,  flying  before  the  chase  of  Latium,  in 
that  the  cragginess  of  the  soil  had  driven  them  to  dis- 
card their  steeds,  he  tries  the  one  remedy  in  sore  dis- 
tress, and  now  with  prayers,  now  with  bitter  speeches, 
inflames  their  valor  :  '  Whither  fly  ye,  mates  ?  By  j'our 
gallant  deeds  I  conjure  3'ou  —  by  your  chief  Evander*8 
name  and  victories  won  at  his  bidding  —  by  m}^  own 
promise,  now  shooting  up  in  rivalry  with  my  father's 
glory  —  trust  not  to  3'our  feet.  It  is  the  sword  that  must 
hew  us  a  waj'  through  the  foe.  Where  yonder  host  of 
men  presses  in  thickest  mass  is  the  path  by  which  our 
noble  country  is  calling  you  and  your  general  Pallas 
back  to  her  arms.  No  deities  sit  lieavy  on  us :  by  a 
mortal  foe  we  are  pressed,  mortals  ourselves :  we  have 
as  many  lives,  as  many  hands  as  they.  Lo  there  !  the 
sea  hems  us  in  with  mighty  ocean-barrier ;  earth  is 
closed  to  our  flight :  shall  the  sea  or  Tro}"  be  our  goal  ? ' 
This  said,  he  dashes  at  the  midst  of  the  hostile  throng. 
The  first  that  meets  him  is  Lagus,  brought  to  the  spot 
by  fates  unkind ;  him,  while  tugging  a  stone  of  enor- 
mous weight,  he  pierces  with  his  whirled  javelin,  just 
where  the  spine  running  down  the  back  was  parting  the 
ribs,  and  recovers  the  weapon  from  its  lodgment  among 
the  bones.  Nor  can  Hisbo  surprise  him  in  the  fact, 
spite  of  his  hopes ;  for  Pallas  catches  him  rushing  on 
in  blind  fury  for  the  pain  of  his  comrade's  death,  and 
buries  the  sword  in  his  distended  lungs.  Next  his  blow 
lights  on  Sthenelus,  and  Anchemolus  of  Rhoetus'  ancient 
line,  who  dared  pollute  his  stepdame's  couch.  You, 
too,  twin  brethren,  fell  on  those  Rutuhan  plains,  Larides 
and  Thymber,  Daucus'  resemblant  oflspring,  undistin- 
guished even  by  your  kin,  a  sweet  perplexitj^  to  those 
who  bore  you :  but  now  Pallas  has  marked  you  with  a 


382  THE  JSNEW. 

cruel  difference ;  for  you,  poor  Thymber,  have  your 
head  shorn  off  by  the  Evandrian  sword  ;  your  hand, 
Larides,  severed  from  the  arm,  is  looking  in  vain  for 
you  its  master ;  the  fingers,  half  alive,  are  quivering 
yet  and  closing  again  on  the  steel. 

Arcadia's  sons,  stung  by  their  chief's  rebuke  and 
gazing  on  his  glorious  deeds,  rush  on  the  foe,  strong 
in  the  armor  of  mingled  rage  and  shame.  Then  Pallas 
strikes  through  Rhoetus  as  he  flies  past  him  on  his  car. 
So  much  space  and  respite  from  his  end  did  Ilus  gain ; 
for  'twas  at  Ilus  he  had  launched  from  the  distance  his 
stalwart  spear :  Rhcetus  comes  between  and  catches  it, 
flying  from  thee,  noble  Teuthras,  and  Tyre^s  thy  brother  ; 
and  tumbled  from  his  car  he  beats  with  his  dying  heel 
the  Rutulian  plains.  Even  as  when  the  winds  have 
risen  at  his  wish  on  a  summer's  day,  a  shepherd  lets 
loose  his  scattered  flames  among  the  woods,  in  a  mo- 
ment catching  all  that  comes  between,  the  Fire-god's 
army  in  one  bristling  line  stretches  over  the  broad 
plains :  he  from  his  seat  beholds  the  triumphant  blaze 
with  a  conqueror's  pride :  even  so  the  valor  of  thy 
friends  musters  from  all  sides  on  one  point  to  aid  thee, 
Pallas.  But  Halesus,  that  fier}'  warrior,  moves  against 
their  opposing  ranks,  gathering  himself  up  into  his 
arms.  Ladon  he  massacres,  and  Pheres,  and  Demo- 
docus :  Strymonius'  right  hand,  raised  against  his 
throat,  he  lops  away  Avith  his  gleaming  sword ;  with  a 
stone  he  strikes  the  front  of  Thoas,  and  has  crushed  the 
bones  mixed  with  gory  brain.  Halesus  had  been  hid- 
den in  the  woods  b}^  his  prophetic  sire ;  when  the  old 
man  closed  his  whitening  eyes  in  death,  the  Fates 
claimed  their  victim,  and  devoted  him  to  Evander's 
darts.  And  now  Pallas  aims  at  him,  after  these  words 
of  prayer :    '  Grant,  Father  Tiber,  to  the  flying  steel 


BOOK  X.  383 

poised  in  m}^  hand  a  prosperous  passage  through  Ha- 
lesus'  hardy  breast ;  thine  oak  shall  have  his  arms  and 
his  warrior  spoils.'  The  god  gave  ear :  while  Halesus 
shielded  Imaon,  he  gives  his  own  breast  in  evil  hour 
unarmed  to  the  Arcadian  lance. 

But  Lausus,  himself  a  mighty  portion  of  the  war, 
suffers  not  his  troops  to  be  dismayed  by  the  hero's 
dreadful  carnage :  first  he  slays  Abas,  who  had  met 
him  front  to  front,  the  breakwater  and  barrier  of  fight. 
Down  go  the  sons  of  Arcadia,  down  go  the  Etruscans, 
and  ye,  too,  Teucrians,  whose  frames  Greece  could  not 
destroy.  The  armies  clash,  their  leaders  and  their 
powers  the  same.  The  rear  ranks  close  up  the  battle  ; 
nor  weapon  nor  hand  can  be  moved  for  the  crowd. 
Here  is  Pallas  pushing  and  pressing,  there  Lausus  over 
against  him :  their  years  scarceh^  differ ;  each  has  a 
comely  form  ;  but  Fortune  had  already  written  that 
neither  should  return  to  his  home.  Tet  were  they  not 
suffered  to  meet  man  to  man  bj^  great  Ol^^mpus'  lord : 
each  has  his  fate  assigned  him  ere  long  at  the  hand  of 
a  mightier  enem3\ 

Turnus  meanwhile  is  warned  by  his  gracious  sister  to 
come  to  Lausus'  aid  ;  and  with  his  flying  car  he  cleaves 
the  intervening  ranks.  Soon  as  he  met  his  comrades' 
eye  :  '  You  may  rest  from  battle  now  ;  I  alone  am  com- 
ing against  Pallas.  Pallas  is  my  due,  and  mine  alone  ; 
would  that  his  sire  were  here  to  see  us  fight.'  He  said  ; 
and  his  friends  retired  from  the  interdicted  space.  But 
as  the  Rutulians  withdraw,  the  young  warrior,  mar- 
veling at  the  haughty  command,  gazes  astonished  on 
Turnus,  rolls  his  eyes  over  that  giant  frame,  and 
sweeps  the  whole  man  from  afar  with  fieiy  glance,  and 
with  words  like  these  meets  the  words  of  the  monarch : 
*  I  shall  soon  be  famous  either  for  kingly  trophies  won 


384  THE  jENEID. 

or  for  an  illustrious  death ;  m}^  sire  is  equal  to  either 
event :  a  truce  to  menace.'  This  said,  he  marches  into 
the  middle  space;  while  the  Arcadians'  blood  chills 
and  curdles  about  their  hearts.  Down  from  his  car 
leaps  Turnus,  and  addresses  himself  to  fight  on  foot. 
And  as  when  a  lion  has  seen  from  a  high  watch-tower 
a  bull  standing  at  distance  in  the  field  and  meditating 
fight,  he  flies  to  the  spot,  even  thus  looks  Turnus  as  he 
bounds  along. 

Soon  as  he  judged  his  foe  would  be  within  reach  of 
his  spear- throw,  Pallas  begins  the  combat,  in  hope  that 
Fortune  may  help  the  venture  of  unequal  powers,  and 
utters  these  words  to  the  mighty  heaven :  '  By  my 
sire's  hospitality  and  the  board  where  thou  satest  as  a 
stranger,  I  pra}^  thee,  Alcides,  stand  by  me  in  m}^  great 
endeavor.  Let  Turnus  see  me  strip  the  bloody  arms 
from  his  dying  frame,  and  may  his  glazing  eyes  endure 
the  sight  of  a  conqueror.'  Alcides  heard  the  youth, 
and  stifled  a  heav}^  groan  deep  down  in  his  breast,  and 
shed  forth  unavaihng  tears.  Then  the  Almighty  Father 
bespeaks  his  son  with  kindly  words :  '  Each  has  his 
fixed  day :  short  and  irretrievable  is  the  span  of  all 
men ;  but  to  propagate  glory  by  great  deeds,  this  is 
what  worth  can  do.  Think  of  those  many  sons  of  gods 
who  fell  beneath  Troy's  lofty  walls  :  among  whom  died 
even  Sarpedon,  my  own  offspring.  For  Turnus,  too, 
the  call  of  his  destiny  has  gone  forth,  and  he  has 
reached  the  term  of  his  allotted  days.'  So  he  speaks, 
and  turns  awaj-  his  ej^es  from  the  Rutulian  plain. 

But  Pallas  with  a  mighty. effort  sends  forth  his  spear, 
and  plucks  from  the  hollow  scabbard  his  flashing  sword. 
On  flies  the  weapon,  strikes  where  the  margin  of  the 
harness  rises  towards  the  shoulder,  and  forcing  its  way 
through  the  buckler's  edge,  at  last  even  grazed  the 


BOOK  X.  385 

mighty  frame  of  Turnus.  Then  Turnus,  long  poising 
his  beam  with  its  point  of  sharp  steel,  hurls  it  at  Pallas, 
with  these  words :  '  See  whether  our  weapon  be  not  the 
keener.'  So  he :  while  cleaving  those  many  plates  of 
iron  and  brass,  spite  of  the  bull-hides  wound  oft  and 
oft  about,  the  point  strikes  through  the  shield's  midst 
with  quivering  impact,  and  pierces  the  corselet's  bar- 
rier and  the  mighty  breast  beyond.  In  vain  the  3  outh 
tears  the  reeking  dart  from  the  wound  :  as  it  parts, 
blood  and  life  follow  on  its  track.  He  falls  forward  on 
his  wound :  his  arms  resound  upon  him,  and  with  his 
bloody  jaws  in  death  he  bites  the  hostile  earth.  Stand- 
ing over  him,  Turnus  began :  '  Men  of  Arcady,  take 
heed  and  carry  my  words  to  Evander :  I  send  back 
Pallas  handled  as  his  sire  deserves.  If  there  be  any 
honor  in  a  tomb,  any  solace  in  burial,  let  him  take  it 
freely ;  his  welcome  of  ^neas  will  be  costly  notwith- 
standing.' Then  with  his  left  foot  as  he  spoke,  he  trod 
on  the  dead,  tearing  away  the  belt's  huge  weight  and 
the  crime  thereon  engraved :  that  band  of  youths  slain 
foully  all  on  one  wedding  night,  and  the  chambers  dab- 
bled with  blood :  Clonus  Eurytides  had  chased  it  on  the 
broad  field  of  gold :  and  now  Turnus  triumphs  in  the 
prize,  and  exults  in  his  winning.  Blind  are  the  eyes 
of  man's  soul  to  destiny  and  doom  to  be,  nor  knows  it 
to  respect  the  limit,  when  upborne  by  prosperous  for- 
tune !  Turnus  shall  see  the  da}"  when  he  will  fain  have 
paid  a  high  price  for  Pallas  unharmed,  when  he  will 
hate  the  spoils  and  the  hour  he  won  them  !  But  Pallas' 
followers,  with  many  a  groan  and  tear,  are  bearing  off 
their  chief  on  his  shield  in  long  procession.  Oh,  vision 
of  sorrow  and  great  glory,  soon  to  meet  thy  father's  eye ! 
this  day  first  gave  thee  to  battle,  this  day  withdraws 
25 


386  THE  ^NEID. 

the  gift,  yet  vast  are  the  heaps  thou  leavest  of  Eutu- 
lian  carnage ! 

And  now  not  the  mere  rumor  of  a  blow  so  dreadful, 
but  surer  intelligence  flies  to  -^neas,  that  his  army  is 
but  a  hand-breadth's  remove  from  death  —  that  it  is 
high  time  to  succor  the  routed  Teucrians.  With  his 
sword  he  mows  down  all  that  crosses  him,  and  all  on 
fire  hews  a  broad  pathway  through  the  ranks  ,with  the 
steel,  seeking  thee,  Turnus,  fresh  flushed  with  slaughter. 
Pallas,  Evander,  the  whole  scene  stands  before  his 
eyes  —  the  board  where  he  had  first  sate  as  a  stranger, 
the  outstretched  hands  of  fellowship.  At  once  he 
takes  alive  four  youths  born  of  Sulmo,  and  other  four 
reared  by  Ufens,  that  he  may  offer  them  as  victims  to 
the  dead,  and  sprinkle  the  funeral  flame  with  their  cap- 
tive gore.  Next  he  had  leveled  his  spear  from  afar  at 
Magus.  Magus  deftly  runs  beneath,  while  the  quiver- 
ing spear  flies  over  his  head,  and  clasping  the  enemy's 
knees,  utters  these  words  of  suppliance  :  '  B}^  your  dead 
father's  soul,  and  the  dawning  promise  of  lulus,  I  pray 
you  spare  my  poor  hfe  for  my  son  and  my  sire.  I  have 
a  lofty  palace  :  deep  in  its  vaults  lie  talents  of  chased 
silver;  masses  of  gold  are  mine,  wrought  and  un- 
wrought  both.  The  \dctory  of  Troy  hangs  not  on  my 
fortunes,  nor  can  a  single  life  make  difference  so  great.' 
He  spoke,  and  ^neas  thus  makes  reply  :  '  Those  many 
talents  you  name  of  silver  and  gold,  keep  them  for 
your  sons.  Turnus  was  the  first  to  put  an  end  to  such 
trading  usages  of  war  at  the  moment  when  he  slew 
Pallas.  My  sire  Anchises'  ghost,  and  my  son  lulus, 
speak  their  thoughts  through  me.'  This  said,  with  his 
left  hand  he  grasps  the  helmet  and  drives  his  sword 
hilt-deep  through  the  suppliant's  back-drawn  neck. 
Hard  by  was  Haemonides,  priest  of  Phoebus  and  Trivia, 


BOOK  X.  387 

Ms  temples  wreathed  with  the  fillet's  sacred  band,  glit- 
tering all  over  with  gay  raiment  and  goodly  armor. 
Him  he  meets,  drives  over  the  plain,  stands  over  him 
fallen,  sacrifices  the  victim,  and  whelms  him  in  a 
mighty  shade  ;  the  arms  are  stripped  and  carried  off  on 
Serestus'  shoulders,  a  trophy  to  thee,  royal  Gradivus. 
The  ranks  are  rallied  by  Cgeculus,  scion  of  Vulcan's 
stock,  and  Umbro,  who  comes  from  the  Volscian  hills. 
The  Dardan  chief  puts  forth  his  rage  against  them. 
Already  had  he  mowed  down  with  his  sword  Anxur's 
left  hand  and  the  whole  orb  of  the  shield  he  bore  — 
that  foe,  I  ween,  had  uttered  a  haughty  boast,  and 
deemed  that  his  hand  would  second  his  tongue,  and 
was  swelling  in  spirit  to  the  stars,  with  an  assured 
hope  of  gray  hairs  and  length  of  days  —  when  Tarqui- 
tus,  in  the  pride  of  gleaming  armor,  borne  by  the 
nj^mph  Dry  ope  to  woodland  Faunus,  crossed  his  fiery 
path.  Drawing  back  his  spear,  he  hampers  the  corselet 
and  the  buckler's  weighty  mass  ;  then  he  sweeps  to  the 
ground  the  head,  as  the  lips  were  vainly  praying  and 
essaying  to  say  a  thousand  things,  and  dashing  before 
him  the  reeking  trunk,  utters  thus  the  fierceness  of  his 
heart :  '  Lie  there,  doughty  warrior !  never  shall*  your 
tender  mother  give  3'ou  burial,  or  pile  your  father's 
tomb  above  your  limbs  ;  no,  you  will  be  left  to  savage 
birds,  or  the  river  will  carry  you  whelmed  by  its  eddies, 
and  hungry  fish  will  lick  your  wounds.*  Next  he  hunts 
down  Antaeus  and  Lucas,  of  Turnus'  first  rank,  and 
gallant  Numa,  and  yellow  Gamers,  son  of  noble  Vol- 
scens,  who  was  wealthiest  in  land  of  Ausonia's  chil- 
dren, and  reigned  over  voiceless  Amyclae.  Even  as 
^gaeon,  who,  fable  tells,  had  a  hundred  arms  and  a 
hundred  hands,  and  flashed  fire  through  fifty  mouths 
from   the   depth   of  fifty  bosoms,  what  time   against 


388  THE  jENETD. 

Jove's  lightning  he  thundered  on  fifty  strong  shields » 
and  drew  forth  fifty  sharp  swords,  so  jEneas  slakes 
his  victorious  fury  the  whole  field  over,  when  once 
his  blade  had  grown  warm  with  blood.  See !  he  is 
advancing  against  Niphseus'  four  harnessed  steeds,  and 
setting  his  breast  against  theirg.  At  once  they,  soon 
as  they  saw  his  lofty  stride  and  his  fierce  gestures,  turn 
round  affrighted,  and,  rushing  backward,  unseat  their 
master  and  hurr}^  the  car  to  the  beach.  Meanwhile  Lu- 
cagus  forces  his  way  into  the  midst,  drawn  by  two 
white  horses,  with  Liger  his  brother ;  but  the  brother 
guides  the  steeds  with  the  rein,  while  Lucagus  sweeps 
fiercely  round  his  naked  sword,  ^neas  brooked  not 
the  fury  of  their  fiery  onset,  but  rushed  against  them, 
and  stood  fronting  them  in  his  giant  bulk  with  threat- 
ening spear.  To  him  cried  Liger :  '  These  are  not 
Diomede's  steeds  you  see,  nor  this  Achilles'  chariot, 
nor  are  these  the  Phrygian  plains ;  3'our  warfare  and 
your  life  shall  end  here  on  Italian  ground.'  So  fly 
abroad  the  random  words  of  frantic  Liger.  The  chief 
of  Troy  seeks  not  to  meet  him  with  words,  but  hurls 
his  javehn  at  the  foe.  Even  as  Lucagus,  bending  for- 
ward over  the  stroke,  pricked  on  his  horses  with  the 
steel,  and  advancing  his  left  foot  prepares  himself  for 
fight,  the  spear  pierces  the  last  margin  of  the  radiant 
shield  and  enters  the  groin  at  the  left :  down  he  falls 
from  the  car  and  wallows  in  death  on  the  plain  ;  while 
good  ^neas  bespeaks  him  with  words  of  gall :  '  So, 
Lucagus,  it  is  no  craven  flight  of  your  steeds  that  has 
played  your- car  false;  no  empty  shadow  cast  by  the 
foe  has  turned  them  ;  no,  it  is  you  that  spring  down 
from  the  wheels,  and  leave  the  horses  \o  their  fate.' 
With  these  words  he  laid  hold  of  the  bridles,  while  the 
wretched  brother,   gliding   down   from  the   car,    was 


BOOK  X  389 

stretching  Ms  recreant  hands  :  '  Oh,  by  yourself,  by  the 
parents  that  gave  such  greatness  birth,  spare  this  poor 
life,  brave  hero  of  Troy,  and  let  prayer  find  compas- 
sion/ ^neas  cut  short  his  entreaties :  '  Not  such  were 
your  words  a  moment  ago ;  die,  and  forsake  not  your  0 
brother,  as  brother  should;'  and  cleaving  the  bosom 
with  his  sword,  he  laid  bare  the  seat  of  breath.  Such 
were  the  deaths  that  the  Dardan  leader  dealt  about  the 
plains,  storming  along  like  torrent  wave  or  murky  tem- 
pest. At  length  the  prisoners  burst  forth  and  leave 
their  camp,  the  young  Ascanius  and  the  soldiery  be- 
leaguered in  vain. 

Jupiter  meanwhile  first  addresses  Juno  :  '  Sister  mine 
and  sweetest  wife  in  one,  Venus  it  is,  even  as  thou 
didst  suppose  —  for  thy  judgment  is  never  at  fault  — 
that  upholds  the  powers  of  the  Trojans,  not  the  war- 
riors' own  keen  right  hand  and  the  courageous  soul  that 
braves  everj^  peril.'  Juno  returned,  meekly :  '  Why, 
my  fairest  lord,  dost  thou  vex  a  sick  spirit  that  quails 
before  thy  cruel  speeches  ?  Had  my  love  the  force  it 
once  had,  and  which  should  still  be  its  own,  this  at 
least  thou  wouldst  not  deny  me,  almighty  as  thou  art, 
the  power  to  withdraw  Turnus  from  the  fight  and  pre- 
serve him  in  safety  for  Daunus  his  father.  As  it  is, 
let  him  perish,  and  glut  the  Teucrian  vengeance  with 
his  righteous  blood.  Yet  he  draws  his  name  from  our 
lineage,  and  Pilumnus  is  his  grandsire's  grandsire ;  and 
often  has  th}'  temple  been  loaded  with  store  of  offer- 
ings from  his  bounteous  hand.'  To  whom,  in  brief 
reply,  the  lord  of  skyey  Olympus  :  '  If  thy  prayer  for 
the  doomed  youth  is  respite  and  breathing-space  from 
present  death,  and  so  thou  readest  my  will,  bear  thou 
Turnus  away  in  flight,  and  snatch  him  from  the  des- 
tiny that  presses  on  his  heels.     Thus  far  is  room  for 


390  THE  jENEID. 

compliance.  But  if  any  deeper  favor  be  hidden  under 
these  praj^ers  of  thine,  and  thou  deemest  that  the  war's 
whole  course  can  be  moved  or  changed,  thou  art  nurs- 
ing an  empty  hope/  Juno  answered  with  tears  :  '  What 
if  thy  heart  were  to  grant  what  thy  tongue  grudges, 
and  Turnus'  life  were  pledged  to  continue?  As  it  is,  a 
heavy  doom  hangs  over  his  guiltless  head,  or  I  am  void 
of  truth  and  wandering  in  delusion.  But  oh,  that  I 
might  rather  be  the  sport  of  lying  terrors,  and  thou, 
who  canst,  lead  back  thy  counsels  by  a  better  road  ! ' 

This  said,  from  the  lofty  sky  she  shot  forthwith,  driv- 
ing storm  before  her  through  the  air  and  girt  with  the 
rain-cloud,  and  sought  the  army  of  Ilium  and  the  camp 
of  Laurentum.  Then,  as  goddesses  may,  she  fashions 
a  thin,  strengthless  shadow  of  hollow  cloud  in  the 
likeness  of  ^neas,  a  marvel  to  the  eyes,  accouters  it 
with  Dardau  weapons,  and  counterfeits  the  shield  and 
the  crest  of  the  god-like  head,  gives  it  empty  words 
and  tones  without  soul,  and  renders  to  the  life  the  step 
and  the  gait :  even  as  the  shapes  that  are  said  to  flit 
when  death  is  past,  or  the  dreams  that  mock  the  sense 
of  slumber.  So  the  phantom  strides  triumphant  in  the 
van,  goading  the  enemy  with  brandished  weapons  and 
defiant  speech.  Turnus  comes  on,  and  hurls  from  far 
his  hurtling  spear ;  it  turns  its  back  and  retires.  Then, 
when  Turnus  thought  ^neas  flying  in  retreat,  and 
snatched  in  the  vehemence  of  his  soul  at  the  empty 
hope  :  '  Whither  so  fast,  ^neas  ?  '  cries  he  :  '  nay, 
leave  not  your  promised  bridal;  this  hand  shall  give 
you  the  soil  you  have  sought  for  the  ocean  over.'  So 
with  loud  shouts  he  follows,  waving  his  drawn  sword, 
nor  sees  that  the  winds  are  bearing  ofl*  his  triumph.  It 
chanced  that  a  ship  was  standing  moored  to  the  edge 
of  a  lofty  rock,  its  ladder  let  down,  its  bridge  ready  to 


BOOK  X,  391 

cross  —  the  ship  which  had  carried  king  Osinius  from 
the  borders  of  Chisium.  Hither,  as  in  haste,  the  sem- 
blance of  the  fljing  ^neas  plunged  for  shelter.  Tur- 
nus  follows  as  fast,  bounds  over  all  obstacles,  and 
springs  across  the  high-raised  bridge.  Scarce  had  he 
touched  the  prow  when  Saturn's  daughter  breaks  the 
mooring  and  sweeps  the  sundered  ship  along  the  reced- 
ing flood.  JEneas  meanwhile  is  claiming  the  combat 
with  his  absent  foe,  and  sending  down  to  death  many  a 
warrior  frame  that  crosses  his  way.  Then  the  air}^ 
phantom  seeks  shelter  no  longer,  but  soaring  aloft 
blends  with  the  murky  atmosphere,  while  Turnus  is 
borne  by  the  wind  down  the  middle  of  the  tide.  Igno- 
rant of  the  event,  and  unthankful  for  escape,  he  looks 
back,  his  hands  and  his  voice  addressed  to  the  sky: 
'  Almighty  sire !  hast  thou  judged  me  worthy  of  an 
infliction  like  this,  and  sentenced  me  to  this  depth  of 
suffering  ?  Whither  am  I  bound  ?  whence  have  I  come  ? 
what  is  this  flight  that  is  bearing  me  home,  and  what 
does  it  make  of  me?  Shall  I  look  again  on  Lauren- 
tum's  camp  and  city  ?  what  of  that  warrior  troop  who 
followed  me  and  my  standard?  Are  they  not  those 
whom  I  left  —  horror  to  tell  —  all  of  them  in  the  jaws 
of  a  cruel  death  —  whom  I  now  see  scattered  in  rout, 
and  hear  their  groans  as  they  fall?  What  can  I  do? 
what  lowest  depth  of  earth  will  3'awn  forme?  Nay, 
do  you,  ye  winds,  have  compassion  —  on  reef,  on  rock 
—  see,  it  is  I,  Turnus,  who  am  fain  to  plead  —  dash  me 
this  vessel,  and  lodge  it  on  the  sandbank's  ruthless 
shoal,  where  none  that  know  my  shame,  Rutuli  or 
rumor,  may  find  me  out ! '  So  speaking,  he  swa3's  in 
spirit  to  this  side  and  to  that :  should  he  for  disgrace 
so  foul  impale  his  frenzied  breast  on  the  sword's  point, 
and  drive  the  stark  blade  through  his  ribs,  or  fling  him- 


392  THE  jENEID. 

self  into  the  midst  of  the  waves,  and  make  by  swim- 
ming for  the  winding  shore,  and  place  himself  again 
among  the  Teucrian  swords  ?  Thrice  he  essayed  either 
way :  thrice  mighty  Juno  kept  him  back,  and  of  her 
great  pity  withheld  the  youth  from  action.  On  he 
flies,  ploughing  the  deep  with  wave  and  tide  to  speed 
him,  and  is  borne  safely  to  the  ancient  town  of  Daunus 
his  sire. 

Prompted  meanwhile  by  Jove,  Mezentius,  all  on  fire, 
takes  up  the  war,  and  charges  the  triumphant  Teucrians. 
The  Tyrrhene  host  flocks  to  the  spot,  bending  all  their 
fury,  all  their  showering  darts  on  one,  one  only  man. 
Even  as  a  rock  which  juts  into  the  mighty  deep,  ex- 
posed to  the  rage  of  the  wind  and  braving  the  sea, 
bears  all  the  violence  and  menace  of  heaven  and 
ocean,  itself  unshaken,  he  stands  unmoved  ;  now  he 
lays  low  Hebrus,  Dolichaon's  child,  and  with  him  Lata- 
gus  and  craven  Palmus :  Latagus  he  strikes  on  the 
face  and  front  with  a  stone,  a  hill's  enormous  fragment, 
Palmus  he  suffers  to  roll  hamstrung  in  his  coward- 
ice ;  their  harness  he  gives  to  Lausus  to  wear  on  his 
shoulders,  their  crests  to  adorn  his  head.  Euanthes, 
too,  the  Phrygian,  and  Mimas,  Paris'  playmate,  borne 
by  Theano  to  Amycus  his  sire,  the  self-same  night 
when  Cisseus'  royal  daughter,  teeming  with  a  fire- 
brand, gave  birth  to  Paris;  he  sleeps  beneath  his 
father's  walls,  while  Mimas  has  his  rest  on  Lauren- 
tum's  unknown  shore.  Like  as  the  mighty  boar  driven 
by  fangs  of  hounds  from  mountain  heights,  the  boar 
whom  pine-crowned  Vesulus  or  Laurentum's  pool  shel- 
ters these  many  years,  pastured  on  the  reedy  jungle, 
soon  as  he  finds  himself  among  the  nets,  stands  at 
bay,  snorting  with  fury  and  bristling  his  back ;  none 
has  the  courage  to  flame  forth  and  come  near  him; 


BOOK  X.  393 

at  safe  distance  they  press  him  with  their  darts  and 
their  cries  ;  even  so  of  them  who  hate  Mezentiiis  with 
a  righteous  hate,  none  has  the  heart  to  face  him  with 
drawn  steel ;  with  missiles  and  deafening  shouts  they, 
assail  him  from  afar;  while  he,  undaunted,  is  pausing 
now  here,  now  there,  gnashing  his  teeth,  and  shakes 
off  the  javelins  from  his  buckler's  hide.  There  was 
one  Acron  from  Cory  thus'  ancient  borders,  a  Grecian 
wight,  who  had  fled  forth  leaving  his  nuptials  yet  to 
celebrate  ;  him,  when  Mezentius  saw  at  distance  scat- 
tering the  intervening  ranks,,  in  pride  of  crimson  plu- 
mage and  the  purple  of  his  plighted  bride,  even  as  oft 
a  ftimished  lion  ranging  through  high-built  stalls  —  for 
frantic  hunger  is  his  prompter  —  if  he  chance  to  mark 
a  flying  goat  or  towering-antlered  deer,  grins  with 
huge  delight,  sets  up  his  mane,  and  hangs  over  the 
rent  flesh,  while  loathly  blood  laves  his  insatiate  jaws 
—  so  jo3'fully  springs  Mezentius  on  the  foe's  cluster- 
ing mass.  Down  goes  ill-starred  Acron,  spurns  the 
blackened  ground  in  the  pangs  of  death,  and  d3^es 
with  blood  the  broken  spear.  Nor  did  the  chief  deign 
to  strike  down  Orodes  as  he  fled,  or  deal  from  a  spear- 
throw  a  wound  unseen :  full  in  front  he  meets  him, 
and  engages  him  as  man  should  man,  prevailing  not 
by  guile  but  by  sheer  force  of  steel.  Then  with  foot 
and  lance  planted  on  the  back-flung  body :  '  See,  gal- 
lants, a  bulwark  of  the  war  has  fallen  in  tall  Orodes,' 
and  his  comrades  shout  in  unison,  taking  up  the  tri- 
umphal paean.  The  dying  man  returns :  '  Whoever 
thou  art,  thy  victorious  boasting  shall  not  be  long  or 
unavenged ;  for  thee,  too,  a  like  fate  is  watching,  and 
thou  shalt  soon  lie  on  these  self-same  fields.'  Mezen- 
tius answers,  with  hate  mantling  in  his  smile :  '  Die 
now.     The  sire  of  gods  and  king  of  men  shall  make 


394  THE  yENEID. 

his  account  with  me.'  So  saying,  he  drew  forth  the 
spear  from  the  body :  the  heav}"  rest  of  iron  slumber 
settles  down  on  its  eyes,  and  their  beams  are  curtained 
in  everlasting  night. 

Caedicus  slaughters  Alcathous,  Sacrator  Hj^daspes, 
Rapo  kills  Parthenius  and  Orses  of  iron  frame,  Messa- 
pus  slays  Clonius  and  Ericetes,  Lycaon's  son,  that 
groveling  on  the  ground  by  a  fall  from  his  unbridled 
steed,  this  encountered  foot  to  foot.  Prancing  forward 
came  Agis  of  Lycia  ;  but  Valerus,  no  unworthy  heir  of 
his  grandsire's  prowess,  hurls  him  down :  Thronius 
falls  by  Salius,  and  Salius  by  Nealces,  hero  of  the 
javehn  and  the  shaft  that  surprises  from  far. 

And  now  the  War-god's  heavy  hand  was  dealing  out 
to  each  equal  measures  of  agony  and  carnage ;  alike 
they  were  slaying,  alike  falling  dead,  victors  and  van- 
quished by  turns,  flight  unthought  of  both  by  these  and 
by  those.  The  gods  in  Jove's  palace  look  pityingly  on 
the  idle  rage  of  the  warring  hosts  —  alas,  that  death- 
doomed  men  should  suffer  so  terribly !  Here  Venus 
sits  spectator,  there  over  against  her  Saturnian  Juno. 
Tisiphone,  ashy  pale,  is  raving  among  thousands  down 
below.  But  see !  Mezentius,  shaking  his  giant  spear, 
is  striding  into  the  field,  an  angry  presence.  Think  of 
the  stature  of  Orion,  as  he  overtops  the  billows  with 
his  shoulders,  when  he  stalks  on  foot  through  the  very 
heart  of  Nereus'  mighty  depths  that  part  before  him, 
or  as  carrying  an  aged  ash  in  triumph  from  the  hill-top 
he  plants  his  tread  on  the  ground,  and  hides  his  head 
among  the  clouds  above:  thus  it  is  that  Mezentius  in 
enormous  bulk  shoulders  his  way.  ^neas  spies  him 
along  the  length  of  the  battle,  and  makes  haste  to 
march  against  him.  He  abides  undismayed,  waiting 
for  his  gallant  foe,  and  stands  like  column  on  its  base  ; 


BOOK  X.  895 

then,  measuring  with  his  eye  the  distance  that  may 
suffice  for  his  spear,  '  Now  let  my  right  hand,  the  god 
of  my  worship,  and  the  missile  dart  I  am  poising, 
vouchsafe  their  aid  I  Tvow  that  you,  my  Lausus,  clad 
in  spoils  torn  from  yonder  robber's  carcass,  shall  stand 
in  your  own  person  the  trophy  of  JEneas/  He  said, 
and  threw  from  far  his  hurtling  lance :  flying  onward, 
it  glances  aside  from  the  shield,  and  strikes  in  the  dis- 
tance noble  Antores  'twixt  side  and  flank,  Antores, 
comrade  of  Hercules,  who,  sent  from  Argos  had  cloven 
to  Evander's  fortunes  and  sat  him  down  in  an  Italian 
home.  Now  he  falls,  ill-fated,  by  a  wound  meant  for 
other,  and  gazes  on  the  sky,  and  dreams  in  death  of 
his  darling  Argos.  Then  good  JEneas  hurls  his  spear ; 
through  the  hollow  disk  with  its  triple  plating  of  brass, 
through  the  folds  of  linen  and  the  texture  wherein  three 
bulls  joined,  it  won  its  way  and  lodged  low  down  in 
the  groin,  but  its  force  held  not  on.  In  a  moment 
^neas,  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  the  Tuscan's  blood, 
plucks  his  sword  from  his  thigh  and  presses  hotly  on 
his  unnerved  foe. 

Soon  as  Lausus  saw,  he  gave  a  heavy  groan  of  ten- 
derness for  the  sire  he  loved,  and  tears  trickled  down 
his  face.  And  here,  gallant  youth,  neither  the  cruel 
chance  of  thy  death,  nor  thy  glorious  deeds,  if  antiquity 
may  gain  credence  for  so  great  a  sacrifice,  nor  thine 
own  most  worthy  memorj^  shall  be  unsung  through  fault 
of  mine.  The  father,  dragging  back  his  foot,  disabled 
and  entangled,  was  quitting  the  field,  his  enemy's  spear- 
shaft  trailing  from  his  buckler.  Forth  dashed  the 
youth  and  mingled  in  the  duel,  and  even  as  JEneas  was 
rising  with  hand  and  body  and  bringing  down  a  blow 
from  above,  met  the  shock  of  the  sword,  and  gave  the 
swordsman  pause ;    his  comrades  second  him  with  a 


396  THE  ^NEID, 

mighty  shout,  covering  the  father's  retreat  as  sheltered 
by  his  son's  shield  he  withdraws  from  the  fray,  hurl  a 
rain  of  darts,  and  strive  with  distant  missiles  to  dis- 
lodge the  foe.  JEneas  glows  with  anger,  and  keeps 
within  the  covert  of  his  arms.  Even  as  on  a  time  when 
storm-clouds  sweep  down  in  a  burst  of  hail,  every 
ploughman,  every  husbandman  has  fled  scattering  from 
the  field,  and  the  traveler  lies  hid  in  a  stronghold  of 
safety,  either  some  river-bank  or  vault  of  lofty  rock, 
while  the  rain  is  pelting  on  the  lands,  in  the  hope  that 
with  the  returning  sun  they  may  task  the  day  once 
more,  even  so,  stormed  on  by  javelins  from  all  sides, 
^neas  endures  the  thunder-cloud  of  war  till  all  its 
artillery  be  spent,  and  keeps  chiding  Lausus  and 
threatening  Lausus  :  '  Whither  are  you  rushing  on  your 
death,  with  aims  beyond  your  strength  ?  Your  duteous 
heart  blinds  your  reckless  valor.'  Yet  he  bates  not  a 
jot  in  his  frantic  onslaught ;  and  now  the  Dardan 
leader's  wrath  surges  into  fury,  and  the  fatal  sisters 
are  gathering  up  Lausus'  last  thread,,  for  ^neas  drives 
his  forceful  blade  sheer  through  the  youth's  bod}^,  and 
buries  it  wholly  within  him.  Pierced  is  the  .  shield  by 
the  edge,  the  light  armor  he  carried  so  threateningly, 
and  the  tunic  embroidered  by  his  mother  with  delicate 
golden  thread,  and  his  bosom  is  deluged  with  blood ; 
and  anon  the  life  flits  through  the  air  regretfully  to  the 
shades  and  the  body  is  left  tenantless.  But  when  the 
son  of  Anchises  saw  the  look  and  countenance  of  the 
dying  —  the  countenance  with  its  strange  and  varying 
hues  of  pallor  —  heavily  he  groaned  for  pity  and 
stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  the  portraiture  of  filial 
love  stood  before  his  soul.  '  What  now,  hapless  boy, 
what  shall  the  good  ^neas  give  you  worthy  of  your 
merit  and  of  a  heart  like  yours  ?     Let  the  arms  wherein 


BOOK  X.  897 

you  took  pride  be  3'our  own  still ;  yourself  I  restore  to 
the  company  of  your  ancestors,  their  shades  and  their 
ashes,  if  that  be  aught  to  you  now.  This  at  least,  ill- 
starred  as  you  are,  shall  solace  the  sadness  of  your 
death :  it  is  great  Eneas'  hand  that  brings  you  low/ 
Then  without  more  ado  he  chides  the  slackness  of  his 
comrades,  and  lifts  their  young  chief  from  the  earth, 
as  he  lay  dabbling  his  trim  locks  with  gore. 

Meanwhile  the  father  at  the  wave  of  Tiber's  flood 
was  stanching  his  wounds  with  water,  and  giving  ease 
to  his  frame,  leaning  on  a  tree's  trunk.  His  brazen 
helmet  is  hanging  from  a  distant  bough,  and  his  heavy 
arms  are  resting  on  the  mead.  Round  him  stand  his 
bravest  warriors  :  he,  sick  and  panting,  is  reheving  his 
neck,  while  his  flowing  beard  scatters  over  his  bosom  : 
many  a  question  asks  he  about  Lausus,  many  a  mes- 
senger he  sends  to  call  him  oflf'  and  convey  to  him  the 
charge  of  his  grieving  sire.  But  Lausus  the  while  was 
being  carried  breathless  on  his  shield  by  a  train  of 
weeping  comrades,  a  mighty  spirit  quelled  by  a  mighty 
wound.  The  distant  groan  told  its  tale  to  that  ill- 
boding  heart.  He  defiles  his  gray  hairs  with  a  shower 
of  dust,  stretches  his  two  palms  to  heaven,  and  clings 
to  the  body.  '  My  son !  and  was  I  enthralled  by  so 
strong  a  love  of  life  as  to  suffer  you,  mine  own  oflT- 
spring,  to  meet  the  foeman's  hand  in  my  stead  ?  Are 
these  your  wounds  preserving  your  sire?  is  he  living 
through  your  death  ?  Alas  !  now  at  length  I  know  the 
miser}'  of  banishment !  now  the  iron  is  driven  home  I 
Ay,  it  was  I,  my  son,  that  stained  your  name  with 
guilt,  driven  by  the  hate  I  gendered  from  the  throne 
and  realm  of  my  father  !  Retribution  was  due  to  my 
country  anfi  to  my  subjects'  wrath :  would  that  I  had 
let  out  my  forfeit  life  through  all  the  death-wounds 


398  THE  JENEID. 

they  aimed !  And  now  I  live  on,  nor  as  yet  leave  day- 
light and  human  kind— but  leave  them  I  will.'  So 
saying,  he  raises  himself  on  his  halting  thigh,  and 
though  the  deep  wound  makes  his  strength  flag,  calls 
for  his  war-horse  with  no  downcast  mien.  This  was 
ever  his  glory  and  his  solace :  this  still  carried  him 
victorious  from  every  battle-field.  He  addresses  the 
grieving  creature  and  bespeaks  it  thus :  '  Long, 
Rhaebus,  have  we  twain  lived,  if  aught  be  long  to  those 
who  must  die.  To-day  3'ou  shall  either  bear  in  victory 
the  bloody  spoils  and  head  of  ^neas  yonder,  and  join 
with  me  to  avenge  my  Lausus*  sufferings,  or  if  our 
force  suffice  not  to  clear  the  way,  we  will  lie  down  to- 
gether in  death :  for  never,  I  ween,  m}^  gallant  one, 
will  3^ou  stoop  to  a  stranger's  bidding  and  endure  a 
Teucrian  lord.'  He  said,  and  mounting  on  its  back 
settled  his  limbs  as  he  was  wont,  and  charged  his  two 
hands  with  pointed  javelins,  his  head  shining  with  brass 
and  shaggy  with  horse-hair  cres^  So  he  bounded  into 
the  midst  —  his  heart  glowing  at  once  with  mighty 
shame,  madness  and  agony  commingled.  Then  with  a 
loud  voice  he  thrice  called  on  JEneas :  ay,  and  ^neas 
knew  it,  and  prays  in  ecstasy  :  '  May  the  great  father 
of  the  gods,  may  royal  Apollo  grant  that  you  come  to 
the  encounter ! '  So  much  said,  he  marches  to  meet 
him  with  brandished  spear.  The  other  replies  :  '  Why 
terrify  me,  fellest  of  foes,  now  you  have  robbed  me  of 
my  son?  this  was  the  only  way  by  which  you  could 
work  my  ruin.  I  fear  not  death,  nor  give  quartet  to 
any  deity.  Enough:  I  am  coming  to  die,  and  send 
you  this  my  present  first.'  He  said,  and  flung  a  javelin 
at  his  enemy :  then  he  sends  another  and  another  to  its 
mark,  wheeling  round  in  a  vast  ring :  but  the  golden 
shield  bides  the  blow.     Three  times,  wheeling  from 


BOOK  X.  399 

right  to  left,  he  rode  round  the  foe  that  faced  him, 
flinging  darts  from  his  hand :  three  times  the  hero  of 
Troy  moves  round,  cariying  with  him  a  vast  grove 
planted  on  his  brazen  plate.  Then,  when  he  begins  to 
tire  of  the  long  delaj^  and  the  incessant  plucking  out 
of  darts,  and  feels  the  unequal  combat  press  him  hard, 
meditating  many  things,  at  last  he  springs  from  his 
covert,  and  hurls  his  spear  full  between  the  hollow 
temples  of  the  warrior-steed.  The  gallant  beast  rears 
itself  upright,  lashes  the  air  with  its  heels,  and  flinging 
the  rider,  falls  on  and  encumbers  him,  and  itself  bowed 
to  earth  presses  with  its  shoulder  the  prostrate  chief. 
Up  flies  ^neas,  plucks  forth  his  sword  from  its  scab- 
bard, and  bespeaks  the  fallen :  '  Where  now  is  fierce 
Mezentius  and  that  his  savage  vehemence  of  spirit?' 
To  whom  the  Tuscan,  soon  as  opening  his  eyes  on  the 
light  he  drank  in  the  heaven  and  regained  his  sense : 
'  Insulting  foe,  why  reproach  me  and  menace  me  with 
death  ?  You  may  kill  me  without  crime  :  I  came  not 
to  battle  to  be  spared,  nor  was  that  the  league  which 
my  Lausus  ratified  with  you  for  his  father.  One  boon 
I  ask,  in  the  name  of  that  grace,  if  any  there  be,  which 
is  due  to  a  vanquished  enemy :  suffer  my  corpse  to  be 
interred.  The  hot  hatred  of  my  subjects,  well  I  know, 
is  blazing  all  round  me  :  screen  me,  I  pray,  from  their 
fury,  and  vouchsafe  me  a  share  in  .the  tomb  of  my 
son.'  So  sa3dng,  with  full  resolve  he  welcomes  the 
sword  to  his  throat,  and  spreads  his  life  over  his  armor 
in  broad  streams  of  blood. 


400  THE  jENEID, 


BOOK  XI. 

Meanwhile,  the  Goddess  of  Dawn  has  risen  and  left 
the  ocean.  JEneas,  though  duty  presses  to  find  leisure 
for  interring  his  friends,  and  his  mind  is  still  wildered 
b}'  the  scene  of  blood,  was  paying  his  vows  to  heaven 
as  conqueror  should  at  the  da3'-star's  rise.  A  giant  oak, 
lopped  all  round  of  its  branches,  he  sets  up  on  a  mound, 
and  arrays  it  in  gleaming  arms,  the  royal  spoils  of  Me- 
zentius,  a  trophy  to  thee,  great  Lord  of  War:  thereto 
he  attaches  the  crest  j^et  raining  blood,  the  warrior's 
weapons  notched  and  broken,  and  the  hauberk  stricken 
and  pierced  b}-  twelve  several  wounds  :  to  the  left  hand 
he  binds  the  brazen  shield,  and  hangs  to  the  neck  the 
ivory-hilted  sword.  Then  he  begins  thus  to  give  charge 
to  his  triumphant  friends,  for  the  whole  company  of 
chiefs  had  gathered  to  his  side :  '  A  mighty  deed, 
gallants,  is  achieved  already :  dismiss  all  fear  for  the 
future  :  see  here  the  spoils,  the  tyrant's  first-fruits  :  see 
here  Mezentius  as  my  hands  have  made  him.  Now  our 
march  is  to  the  king  and  the  walls  of  Latium.  Set  the 
battle  in  array  in  your  hearts  and  let  hope  forestall  the 
fray,  that  no  delay  may  cheek  j^our  ignorance  at  the 
moment  when  heaven  gives  leave  to  pluck  up  the  stand- 
ards and  lead  forth  our  chivalry  from  the  camp,  no 
coward  resolve  palsy  your  steps  with  fear.  Meanwhile, 
consign  we  to  earth  the  unburied  carcasses  of  our 
friends,  that  solitary  honor  which  is  held  in  account  in 
the  pit  of  Acheron.  Go,'  he  says,  '  grace  with  the  last 
tribute  those  glorious  souls,  who  have  bought  for  us 
this  our  father-land  with  the  price  of  their  blood  :   and 


,  BOOK  XL  401 

first  to  Evander's  sorrowing  town  send  we  Pallas,  who, 
lacking  naught  of  manly  worth,  has  been  reft  by  the 
evil  da}',  and  whelmed  in  darkness  before  his  time.' 

So  he  says  weeping,  and  returns  to  his  tent-door, 
where  the  body  of  breathless  Pallas,  duly  laid  out,  was 
being  watched  by  Acoetes  the  aged,  who  had  in  old 
days  been  armor-bearer  to  Evander  his  Arcadian  lord, 
but  then  in  an  hour  less  happy  was  serving  as  the  ap- 
pointed guardian  of  the  pupil  he  loved.  Around  the 
corpse  were  thronging  the  retinue  of  menials  and  the 
Trojan  train,  and  dames  of  Ilion  with  their  hair  un- 
bound in  mourning  fashion.  But  soon  as  JEneas  entered 
the  lofty  portal,  a  mighty  wail  they  raise  to  the  stars, 
smiting  on  their  breasts,  and  the  royal  dwelling  groans 
to  its  center  with  their  agony  of  woe.  He,  when  he  saw 
the  pillowed  head  and  countenance  of  Pallas  in  his 
beauty,  and  the  deep  cleft  of  the  Ausonian  spear  in  his 
marble  bosom,  thus  speaks,  breaking  into  tears  :  '  Can 
it  be,  unhappy  bo}^  that  Fortune  at  the  moment  of  her. 
triumphant  flood-tide  has  grudged  you  to  me,  forbid- 
ding you  to  look  on  mj^  kingdom,  and  ride  back  victo- 
rious to  your  father's  home  ?  Not  such  was  the  parting 
pledge  I  gave  on  your  behalf  to  3'our  sire  Evander, 
when,  clasping  me  to  his  heart,  he  sent  me  on  my  way 
to  mighty  empire,  and  anxiously  warned  me  that  the 
foe  was  fierce  and  the  rap  we  should  war  with  stub- 
born. And  now  he  belike  at  this  very  moment  in  the 
deep  delusion  of  empty  hope  is  making  vows  to 
Heaven  and  piling  the  altars  with  gifts,  while  we  are 
following  his  darling,  void  of  life,  and  owing  no  dues 
henceforward  to  anj^  power  on  high,  with  the  vain  ser- 
vice of  our  sorrow.  Ill-starred  father !  your  eyes  shall 
see  what  cruel  death  has  made  of  your  son.  And  is  this 
the  proud  return,  the  triumph  we  looked  for?  has  my 
26 


402  THE  jENEID. 

solemn  pledge  shrunk  to  this  ?  Yet  no  beaten  coward 
shall  you  see,  Evander,  chastised  with  unseemly  wounds, 
nor  shall  the  father  pray  for  death  to  come  in  its  terror 
while  the  son  survives.  Ay  me  !  how  strong  a  defender 
is  lost  to  our  Ausonian  realm,  and  lost  to  you,  my  own 
lulus ! ' 

So  having  wailed  his  fill,  he  gives  order  to  lift  and 
bear  the  poor  corpse,  and  sends  a  thousand  men  chosen 
from  his  whole  array  to  attend  the  last  service  of  woe, 
and  lend  their  countenance  to  the  father's  tears,  a  scant 
solace  for  that  mighty  sorrow,  yet  not  the  less  the 
wretched  parent's  due.  Others,  nothing  slack,  plait 
the  framework  of  a  pliant  bier  with  shoots  of  arbute 
and  oaken  twigs,  and  shroud  the  heaped-up  bed  with  a 
covering  of  leaves.  Here  place  they  the  youth  raised 
high  on  his  rustic  litter,  even  as  a  flower  cropped  by 
maiden's  finger,  be  it  of  delicate  violet  or  drooping 
hyacinth,  unforsaken  as  yet  of  its  sparkling  hue  and  its 
graceful  outline,  though  its  parent  earth  no  longer  feeds 
it  or  supplies  it  with  strength.  Then  brought  forth 
^neas  two  garments  stiff"  with  gold  and  purple,  which 
Dido  had  wrought  for  him  in  other  days  with  her  own 
hands,  delighting  in  the  toil,  and  had  streaked  their 
webs  with  threads  of  gold.  Of  these  the  mourner 
spreads  one  over  his  youthful  friend  as  a  last  honor, 
and  muffles  the  locks  on  which  the  flame  must  feed : 
moreover  he  piles  in  a  heap  many  a  spoil  from  Lauren- 
turn's  fray,  and  bids  the  plunder  be  carried  in  long 
procession.  The  steeds  too  and  weapons  he  adds  of 
which  he  had  stripped  the  foe.  Already  had  he  bound 
the  victims'  hands  behind  their  backs,  doomed  as  a 
sacrifice  to  the  dead  man's  spirit,  soon  to  spill  their 
blood  over  the  fire:  and  now  he  bids  the  leaders  in 
person  carry  tree-trunks  clad  with  hostile  arms,  and 


BOOK  XL  403 

has  the  name  of  an  enemy  attached  to  each.  There  is 
Acoetes  led  along,  a  lorn  old  man,  marring  now  his 
breast  with  blows,  now  his  face  with  laceration,  and 
anon  he  throws  himself  at  his  full  length  on  the  ground. 
They  lead  too  the  car,  all  spattered  with  Rutulian 
blood.  After  it  the  warrior  steed,  w<Ethon,  his  trap- 
pings laid  aside,  moves  weeping,  and  bathes  his  visage 
with  big  round  drops.  Others  carry  the  spear  and  the 
helm :  for  the  rest  of  the  harness  is  Turnus'  prize. 
Then  follows  a  mourning  army,  the  Teucrians,  and  all 
the  Tuscans,  and  the  sons  of  Arcady  with  weapons 
turned  downward.  And  now^after  all  the  retinue  had 
passed  on  in  long  array,  ^neas  stayed,  and  groaning 
deeply  uttered  one  word  more:  'We  are  summoned 
hence  by  the  same  fearful  destiny  of  war  to  shed  other 
tears :  I  bid  you  hail  for  ever,  mightiest  Pallas,  and 
for  ever  farewell.'  Saying  this  and  this  only,  he  turned 
to  the  lofty  walls  again,  and  bent  his  footsteps  camp- 
ward. 

And  now  appeared  the  ambassadors  from  the  town 
of  Latium,  with  the  coverings  of  their  olive  boughs, 
entreating  an  act  of  grace  :  the  bodies  which  were  tying 
over  the  plains  as  the  steel  had  mowed  them  down  they 
pray  him  to  restore,  and  suffer  them  to  pass  under  the 
mounded  earth :  no  man  wars  with  the  vanquished  and 
with  those  who  have  left  the  sun :  let  him  show  mercy 
to  men  once  known  as  his  hosts  and  the  fathers  of 
his  bride.  The  good  ^neas  hearkens  to  a  prayer  that 
merits  no  rebuke,  grants  them  the  boon,  and  withal 
bespeaks  them  thus  :  '  What  undeserved  ill  chance, 
men  of  Latium,  has  entangled  you  in  a  war  so  terrible 
and  made  you  fly  from  us  your  friends?  Ask  3'ou 
peace  for  the  dead,  for  those  on  whom  the  War-god*s 
die  has  fallen  ?    Nay,  I  would  fain  grant  it  to  the  living 


404  THE  ^NEID. 

too.  I  were  not  here  had  not  fate  assigned  me  a 
portion  and  a  home :  nor  wage  I  war  against  j^our  na- 
tion :  it  was  the  king  that  abandoned  our  alliance,  and 
sought  shelter  rather  under  Turnus'  banner.  Fairer 
it  had  been  that  Turnus  should  have  met  the  death- 
stroke  3'e  mourn.  If  he  seeks  to  end  the  war  by 
strength  of  arm  and  expel  the  Trojan  enemy,  duty 
bade  him  confront  me  with  weapons  like  mine,  and 
that  one  should  have  lived  who  had  earned  life  from 
heaven  or  his  own  right  hand.  Now  go  and  kindle 
the  flame  beneath  your  ill-starred  townsmen.'  Eneas' 
speech  was  over:  they  .stood  in  silent  woijder,  their 
eyes  and  countenances  steadfastly  fixed  on  each  other. 
Then  Drances,  elder  in  birth, 'ever  embroiled  with  the 
youthful  Turnus  by  hatred  and  taunting  word,  thus 
speaks  in  reply :  '  O  mighty  in  fame's  voice,  mightier 
in  your  own  brave  deeds,  hero  of  Troy,  what  praise 
shall  I  utter  to  match  you  with  the  stars?  Shall  I 
first  admire  your  sacred  love  of  right,  or  the  toils 
of  your  hand  in  war  ?  Ours  it  shall  be  gratefully  to 
report  your  answer  to  our  native  town,  and  should 
any  favoring  chance  allow,  make  you  the  friend  of 
king  Latinus.  Let  Turnus  look  for  alliance  where  he 
may.  Nay,  it  will  be  our  pride  to  uprear  those  mas- 
sive walls  of  destin}',  and  heave  on  our  shoulders  the 
stones  of  your  new  Troy.'  He  spoke,  and  the  rest 
all  murmured  assent.  For  twelve  days  they  make 
truce,  and  with  amity  to  mediate,  Trojans  and  Latians 
mingled  roam  through  the  forest  on  the  mountain 
slopes  unharming  and  unharmed.  The  loft}^  ash  rings 
with  the  two-edged  steel :  the}^  bring  low  pines  erst 
uplifted  to  the  sky,  nor  is  there  pause  in  cleaving  with 
wedges  the  oak  and  fragrant  cedar,  or  in  carrying  ashen 
trunks  in  the  groaning  wains. 


BOOK  XL  405 

And  now  flying  Fame,  the  harbinger  of  that  cruel 
agony,  is  filling  with  her  tidings  the  ears  of  Evander, 
his  palace  and  his  city.  Fame  that  but  few  hours 
back  was  proclaiming  Pallas  the  conqueror  of  Latium. 
Forth  stream  the  Arcadians  to  the  gates,  with  funeral 
torches  in  ancient  fashion,  snatched  up  hurriedly ;  the 
road  gleams  with  the  long  line  of  fire,  which  parts  the 
breadth  of  fields  on  either  hand.  To  meet  them  comes 
the  train  of  Phrygians,  and  joins  the  wailing  company. 
Soon  as  the  matrons  saw  them  pass  under  the  shadow 
of  the  houses,  they  set  the  mourning  city  ablaze  with 
their  shrieks.  But  Evander  —  no  force  can  hold  him 
back ;  he  rushes  into  the  midst :  there  as  they  lay 
down  the  bier  he  has  flung  himself  upon  Pallas,  and 
is  clinging  to  him  with  tears  and  groans,  till  choking 
grief  at  last  lets  speech  find  her  way  :  '  No,  my  Pallas ! 
this  was  not  your  promise  to  your  sire,  to  trust  your- 
self with  caution  in  the  War-god's  savage  hands.  I 
knew  what  a  spell  there  lay  in  the  young  dawn  of  a 
soldier's  glory,  the  enrapturing  pride  of  the  first  day 
of  battle.  Alas  for  the  ill-starred  first-fruits  of  youth, 
the  cruel  foretaste  of  the  coming  war !  alas  for  those 
my  vows  and  prayers,  that  found  no  audience  with  any 
of  the  gods !  alas  too  for  thee,  my  blessed  spouse, 
happy  as  thou  art  in  the  death  that  spared  thee  not 
for  this  heavy  sorrow !  while  I,  living  on,  have  tri- 
umphed over  my  destiny,  that  I  might  survive  in 
solitary  fatherhood.  Had  I  but  followed  the  friendly 
standards  of  Troy,  and  fallen  whelmed  by  Rutulian 
javelins !  had  I  rendered  my  own  life  up,  so  that  this 
funeral  train  should  have  borne  me  home,  and  not  my 
Pallas !  Nor  yet  would  I  blame  you,  men  of  Troy, 
nor  the  treaty  we  made,  nor  the  hands  we  plighted  in 
friendship ;  it  is  but  the  portion  ordained  long  ago  as 


406  THE  ^NEID. 

fitting  for  my  gra}^  hairs.  If  it  was  written  that  ray 
son  should  die  ere  his  time,  it  shall  be  well  that  he 
fell  after  slaying  his  Yolscian  thousands,  while  lead- 
ing a  Teucrian  army  to  the  gates  of  Latium.  Nay, 
my  Pallas,  I  would  wish  for  you  no  worthier  funeral 
than  that  accorded  to  you  by  JEneas  the  good  and 
his  noble  Phrj'gians,  by  the  Tyrrhene  leaders,  and 
the  whole  TjTrhene  host.  Each  bears  you  a  mighty 
troph}^  whom  your  right  hand  sends  down  to  death. 
And  you,  too,  proud  Turnus,  would  be  standing  at 
this  moment,  a  giant  trunk  hung  round  with  armor, 
had  your  age  been  but  as  his,  the  vigor  of  your  years 
the  same.  But  why  should  misery  like  mine  hold 
back  the  Teucrians  from  the  battle  ?  Go,  and  remem- 
ber to  bear  my  message  to  your  king.  If  I  still  drag 
the  wheels  of  my  hated  life  now  my  Pallas  is  slain, 
it  is  because  of  j^our  right  hand,  which  owes  the  debt 
of  Turnus'  life  to  son  and  sire,  j^ourself  being  witness. 
This  is  the  one  remaining  niche  for  your  valor  and  3'our 
fortune  to  fill.  I  ask  not  for  triumph  to  gild  my  life : 
that  thought  were  crime :  I  ask  but  for  tidings  that  I 
may  bear  to  my  son  down  in  the  spectral  world.' 

Meantime  the  Goddess  of  Dawn  had  lifted  on  high 
her  kindly  light  for  suffering  mortality,  recalling  them 
to  task  and  toil.  Already  father  ^neas,  already  Tar- 
chon,  have  set  up  their  funeral  piles  along  the  winding 
shore.  Hither  each  man  brings  the  body  of  friend  or 
kinsman  as  the  rites  of  his  sires  command ;  and  as 
the  murky  flames  are  applied  below,  darkness  veils 
the  heights  of  heaven  in  gloom.  Thrice  they  ran  their 
courses  round  the  lighted  pyres,  sheathed  in  shining 
armor ;  thrice  they  circled  on  their  steeds  the  mourn- 
ful funeral  flame,  and  uttered  the  voice  of  wailing. 
Sprinkled  is  the  earth  with  theh*  tears,  sprinkled  is  the 


BOOK  XL  407 

harness.  Upsoars  to  heaven  at  once  the  shout  of  war- 
riors and  the  blare  of  trumpets.  Others  fling  upon 
the  fire  plunder  torn  from  the  Latian  slain,  helms  and 
shapely  swords  and  bridle-reins  and  glowing  wheels ; 
some  bring  in  offering  the  things  the  dead  men  wore, 
their  own  shields  and  the  weapons  that  sped  so  ill. 
Many  carcasses  of  oxen  are  sacrificed  round  the  piles  : 
bristly  swine  and  cattle  harried  from  the  country  round 
are  made  to  bleed  into  the  flame.  Then  along  the  whole 
line  of  coast  the}^  gaze  on  their  burning  friends,  and 
keep  sentry  over  the  half-quenched  fire-bed,  nor  let 
themselves  be  torn  away  till  dewy  night  rolls  round  the 
sky  with  its  garniture  of  blazing  stars. 

With  like  zeal  the  ill-starred  Latians  in  a  different 
quarter  set  up  countless  piles ;  of  the  multitude  of 
corpses  some  they  bury  in  the  earth,  some  they  lift 
up  and  carry  off  to  neighbor  districts,  and  send  them 
home  to  the  city ;  the  rest,  a  mighty  mass  of  promis- 
cuous carnage,  they  burn  uncounted  and  unhonored  ; 
and  thereon  the  plains  through  their  length  and  breadth 
gleam  with  the  thickening  rivalry  of  funeral  fires.  The 
third  morrow  had  withdrawn  the  chill  shadows  from  the 
sky  :  the  mourners  were  leveling  the  piles  of  ashes  and 
sweeping  the  mingled  bones  from  the  hearths,  and 
heaping  over  them  mounds  of  earth  where  the  heat  yet 
lingers.  But  within  the  walls,  in  the  city  of  Latium's 
wealthy  king,  the  wailing  is  pre-eminent,  and  largest  the 
portion  of  that  long  agony.  Here  'are  mothers  and 
their  sons'  wretched  brides,  here  are  sisters'  bosoms 
racked  with  sorrow  and  love,  and  children  orphaned 
of  their  parents,  calling  down  curses  on  the  terrible 
war  and  on  Turnus'  bridal  rites ;  he,  he  hiruself,  they 
cry,  should  try  the  issue  with  arms  and  the  cold  steel, 
who   claims   for  himself   the   Italian   crown  and   the 


408  THE  ^NEID. 

honors  of  sovereignty.  Fell  Drances  casts  his  weight 
into  the  scale,  and  bears  witness  that  Turnus  alone  is 
challenged  by  the  foe,  Turnus  alone  defied  to  com- 
bat. Against  them  many  a  judgment  is  ranged  in 
various  phrase  on  Turnus'  side,  and  the  queen's  au- 
gust name  lends  him  its  shadow ;  man}^  an  applaud- 
ing voice  upholds  the  warrior  by  help  of  the  trophies 
he  has  won. 

Amid  all  this  ferment,  when  the  blaze  of  popular 
turmoil  is  at  its  height,  see,  as  a  crowning  blow,  comes 
back  the  sorrowing  embassy  with  tidings  from  Dio- 
mede's  mighty  town :  the  cost  of  all  their  labors  has 
gained  them  naught:  gifts  and  gold  and  earnest 
prayers  are  alike  in  vain :  the  Latians  must  look  for 
arms  elsewhere,  or  sue  for  peace  from  the  Trojan 
chief.  King  Latinus  himself  is  crushed  to  earth  by 
the  weight  of  agony.  The  wrath  of  the  gods,  the 
fresh-made  graves  before  his  eyes,  tell  him  plainly 
that  ^neas  is  the  man  of  destiny,  borne  on  by  heav- 
en's manifest  will.  So  he  summons  by  royal  mandate 
a  mighty  council,  the  chiefs  of  his  nation,  and  gath- 
ers them  within  his  lofty  doors.  They  have  mustered 
from  alljlides,  and  are  streaming  to  the  palace  through 
the  crowded  streets.  In  the  midst  Latinus  takes  his 
seat,  at  once  eldest  in  years  and  first  in  kingly  state, 
with  a  brow  that  knows  not  joy.  Hereupon  he  bids 
the  envoys  returned  from  the  ^tolian  town  to  report 
the  answers  they  bear,  and  bids  them  repeat  each 
point  in  order.  Silence  is  proclaimed,  and  Venulus, 
obeying  the  mandate,  begins  to  speak  : 

'  Townsmen,  we  have  looked  on  Diomede  and  his 
Argive  encampment :  the  journey  is  overpast,  and  every 
chance  surmounted,  and  we  have  touched  the  hand  by 
which  the  realm  of  Ilion  fell.     We  found  him  raising 


BOOK  XL  409 

his  city  of  Argyripa,  the  namesake  of  his  ancestral 
people,  in  the  land  of  lapygian  Garganus  which  his 
sword  had  won.  Soon  as  the  presence  was  gained  and 
liberty  of  speech  accorded,  we  proffer  our  gifts,  inform 
him  of  our  name  and  country,  who  is  our  invade?,  and 
what  cause  has  led  us  to  Arpi.  He  listened,  and  re- 
turned as  follows  with  untroubled  mien  :  "  O  children 
of  fortune,  subjects  of  Saturn's  reign,  men  of  old  Au- 
sonia,  what  caprice  of  chance  disturbs  you  in  your  re- 
pose, and  bids  you  provoke  a  war  ye  know  not?  Know 
that  all  of  us,  whose  steel  profaned  the  sanctity  of 
Ilion's  soil  —  I  pass  the  hardships  of  war,  drained  to 
the  dregs  under  those  lofty  ramparts,  the  brave  hearts 
which  that  fatal  Simois  covers  — ^ea,  all  of  us  the  wide 
world  over  have  paid  the  dues  of  our  trespass  in  agonies 
unutterable,  a  company  that  might  have  wrung  pity 
even  from  Priam :  witness  Minerva's  baleful  star,  and 
the  .crags  of  Euboea,  and  Caphereus  the  avenger.  Dis- 
charged from  that  warfare,  wandering  outcasts  on 
diverse  shores,  Menelaus,  Atreus'  son,  is  journeying  in 
banishment  even  to  the  pillars  of  Proteus  ;  Ulysses  has 
looked  upon  ^tna  and  her  Cyclop  brood.  Need  I  tell 
of  Neoptolemus'  portioned  realms,  of  Idomeneus'  dis- 
mantled home,  of  Locrian  settlers  on  a  Libyan  coast? 
Even  the  monarch  of  Mycenae,  the  leader  of  the  great 
Grecian  name,  met  death  on  his  very  threshold  at  the 
hand  of  his  atrocious  spouse  ;  Asia  fell  before  fiim,  but 
the  adulterer  rose  in  her  room.  Cruel  gods,  that  would 
not  have  me  restored  to  the  hearth-fires  of  my  home,  to 
see  once  more  the  wife  of  my  longing  and  my  own  fair 
Calydon !  Nay,  even  my  flight  is  dogged  bj  portents 
of  dreadful  view  ;  my  comrades  torn  from  me  are  wing- 
ing the  air  and  haunting  the  stream  as  birds  —  alas  that 
the  followers  of  my  fortunes  should  suffer  so!  — and 


410  THE  ^NEID. 

making  the  rocks  ring  with  the  shrieks  of  their  sorrow. 
Such  was  the  fate  I  had  to  look  for  even  from  that  day 
when  with  my  frantic  steel  I  assailed  the  flesh  of  im- 
mortals, and  impiously  wounded  Venus'  sacred  hand. 
Nay,  nay,  urge  me  no  longer  to  a  war  like  this.  Since 
Pergamus  fell,  my  fightings  with  Troy  are  ended ;  I 
have  no  thought,  no  joy,  for  the  evils  of  the  past.  As 
for  the  gifts  which  you  bring  me  from  your  home,  carry 
them  rather  to  ^neas.  I  tell  you,  I  have  stood  against 
the  fury  of  his  weapon,  and  joined  hand  to'  hand  with 
him  in  battle ;  trust  one  who  knows  how  strong  is  his 
onset  as  he  rises  on  the  shield,  how  fierce  the  whirl- 
wind of  his  hurthng  lance.  Had  Ida's  soil  borne  but 
two  other  so  valiant,  Dardanus  would  have  marched  in 
his  turn  to  the  gates  of  Inachus,  and  the  tears  of  Greece 
would  be  flowing  for  a  destiny  reversed.  All  those 
years  of  lingering  at  the  walls  of  stubborn  Troy,  it  was 
Hector's  and  -Eneas'  hand  that  clogged  the  wheels  of 
Grecian  victory,  and  delaj^ed  her  coming  till  the  tenth 
campaign  had  begun.  High  in  courage  were  both,  high 
in  the  glory  of  martial  prowess ;  but  piety  gave  liim 
the  pre-eminence.  Join  hand  to  hand  in  treaty,  if  so 
you  may  ;  but  see  that  your  arms  bide  not  the  shock  of 
,his."  Thus,  gracious  sire,  have  you  heard  at  once  the 
king's  reply,  and  the  judgment  he  passed  on  this  our 
mighty  war.' 

The  envoys  had  scarcely  finished  when  a  diverse 
murmur  runs  along  the  quivering  lips  of  the  sons  of 
Ausonia,  as  when  rapid  streams  are  checked  by  rocks 
in  their  course,  confused  sounds  rise  from  the  im- 
prisoned torrent,  and  neighboring  banks  re-echo  with 
the  babbling  of  the  waves.  Soon  as  their  passions  were 
allayed,  and  their  chafed  countenances  settled  in  calm, 


BOOK  XL  411 

the  monarch,  first  invoking  heaven,  begins  from  his 
lofty  throne : 

'  To  have  taken  your  judgment,  Latians,  ere  this  on 
the  state  of  the  common-weal,  would  have  been  my 
pleasure,  and  our  truer  interest,  rather  than  summon  a 
council  at  a  crisis  like  this,  when  the  foe  has  sat  down 
before  our  walls.  A  grievous  war,  my  countrymen,  we 
are  waging,  with  the  seed  of  heaven,  a  nation  unsub- 
dued, whom  no  battles  overtire,  nor  even  in  defeat  can 
they  be  made  to  drop  the  sword.  For  any  hope  ye 
have  cherished  in  the  alliance  of  -^tolian  arms,  resign  it 
for  ever.  Each  is  his  own  hope  ;  and  how  slender  is  this 
ye  ma}^  see  for  yourselves.  As  to  a'll  beside,  with  what 
utter  ruin  it  is  stricken  is  palpable  to  the  sight  of  your 
eyes,  to  the  touch  of  your  hands.  I  throw  the  blame 
on  none :  manly  worth  has  5one  the  utmost  it  could : 
all  the  sinews  of  the  realm  have  been  strained  in  the 
contest.  Now  then  I  will  set  forth  what  is  the  judg- 
ment of  my  wavering  mind,  and  show  you  it  in  few 
words,  if  ye  will  lend  me  your  attention.  There  is  an 
ancient  territory  of  mine  bordering  on  the  Tuscan  river, 
extending  lengthwise  to  the  west,  even  be3'ond  the 
Sicanian  frontier ;  Auruncans  and  Rutulians  are  its 
tillers,  subduing  with  the  ploughshare  its  stubborn  hills, 
and  pasturing  their  flocks  on  the  rugged  slopes.  Let 
this  whole  district,  with  the  loft}^  mountain  and  its  belt 
of  pines,  be  our  friendly  gift  to  the  Teucrians ;  let  us 
name  equal  terms  of  alliance,  and  invite  them  to  share 
our  kingdom  ;  let  them  settle  here,  if  their  passion  is  so 
strong,  and  build  them  a  city.  But  if  they  have  a  mind 
to  compass  other  lands  and  another  nation,  and  are  free 
to  quit  our  soil,  let  us  build  twenty  ships  of  Italian  tim- 
ber, or  more  if  they  have  men  to  fill  them :  there  is  the 
wood  ready  felled  by  the  river  side ;  let  themselves  pre- 


412  THE  jENEID. 

scribe  the  size  and  the  number ;  let  us  provide  brass, 
and  hands,  and  naval  trim.  Moreover,  to  convey  our 
proffers  and  ratify  the  league,  I  would  have  an  em- 
bassy of  a  hundred  Latians  of  the  first  rank  sent  with 
peaceful  branches  in  their  hands,  carrying  also  presents, 
gold  and  ivory,  each  a  talent's  weight,  and  the  chair  and 
striped  robe  that  are  badges  of  our  ro3^alty.  Give  free 
counsel  and  help  to  support  a  fainting  commonwealth.' 

Then  Drances,  hostile  as  ever,  whom  the  martial 
fame  of  Turnus  was  ever  goading  with  the  bitter  stings 
of  sidelong  env}^,  rich,  and  prodigal  of  his  riches,  a 
doughty  warrior  with  the  tongue,  but  a  feeble  hand  in 
the  heat  of  battle,  esteemed  no  mean  adviser  in  debate, 
and  powerful  in  the  arts  of  faction  :  his  mother's  noble 
blood  made  proud  a  lineage  which  on  his  father's  side 
was  counted  obscure:  —  he  rises,  and  with  words  like 
these  piles  and  heaps  anger  high : 

'  A  matter  obscure  to  none,  and  needing  no  voice  of 
ours  to  make  it  plain  is  this  that  you  propound,  gracious 
king.  All  own  that  i\\Qj  know  what  is  the  bearing  of 
the  state's  fortune  ;  but  their  tongues  can  only  mutter. 
Let  him  accord  freedom  of  speech,  and  bate  his  angry 
blasts,  to  whose  ill-omened  leadership  and  inauspicious 
temper — ay,  I  wi7r  speak,  let  him  threaten  me  with 
duel  and  death  as  he  may, —  we  owe  it  that  so  many  of 
our  army's  stars  have  set  before  our  eyes,  and  the  whole 
city  is  sunk  in  mourning,  while  he  is  making  his  essay 
of  the  Trojan  camp,  with  flight  always  in  reserve,  and 
scaring  heaven  with  the  din  of  his  arms.  One  gift  there 
is  over  and  above  that  long  catalogue  which  you  would 
have  us  send  and  promise  to  the  Dardans  :  add  but  this 
to  them,  most  excellent  sovereign,  nor  let  any  man's 
violence  prevent  you  from  bestowing  your  daughter  in 
the  fullness  of  a  father's  right  on  a  noble  son-in-law 


BOOK  XL  413 

and  a  worthy  alliance,  and  basing  the  peace  we  seek  on 
a  covenant  which  shall  last  for  ever.  Nay,  if  the  reign 
of  terror  is  so  absolute  over  our  minds  and  hearts,  let 
us  go  straight  to  him  with  our  adjurations  and  ask  for 
grace  at  his  own  hands  —  ask  him  to  yield,  and  allow 
king  and  country  to  exercise  their  rights.  Why  fling 
your  wretched  countrj^men  again  and  again  into  dan- 
ger's throat,  you,  the  head  and  well-spring  of  the  ills 
which  Latium  has  to  bear  ?  There  is  no  hope  from  war  ; 
peace  we  ask  of  you,  one  and  all  —  yes,  Turnus,  peace, 
and  the  one  suretj^  that  can  make  peace  sacred.  See, 
first  of  all  I,  whom  you  give  out  to  be  your  enemj^  — 
and  I  care  not  though  I  be  —  come  and  throw  myself 
at  your  feet.  Pity  those  of  3^our  own  kin,  bring  down 
your  pride,  and  retire  as  beaten  man  should.  Routed 
we  are ;  we  have  looked  on  corpses  enough,  and  have 
left  leagues  enough  of  land  unpeopled.  Or  if  glory 
stirs  you,  if  you  can  call  up  into  your  breast  the  cour- 
age needed,  if  the  dowry  of  a  palace  lies  so  near  your 
heart,  be  bold  for  once,  and  advance  with  bosom 
manned  to  meet  the  foe.  What !  that  Turnus  may  have 
the  blessing  of  a  queenly  bride,  are  we,  poor  paltry 
lives,  a  herd  unburied  and  unwept,  to  lie  weltering  on 
the  plain  ?  It  is  your  turn  :  if  you  have  any  strength, 
any  touch  of  the  War-god  of  your  sires,  look  him  in 
the  face  who  sends  you  his  challenge.* 

At  these  words  Turnus'  violence  blazed  out :  heaving 
a  groan,  he  vents  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  such 
utterance  as  this :  '  Copious,  Drances,  ever  is  your 
stream  of  speech  in  the  hour  when  war  is  calling, 
for  hands  ;  when  the  senate  is  summoned,  you  are  first 
in  the  field.  Yet  we  want  not  men  to  fill  our  court 
with  talk,  that  big  talk  which  you  hurl  from  a  safe  van- 
tage-ground, while  the  rampart  keeps  off. the  foe  and 


414  THE  jENEID. 

the  moat  is  not  foaming  with  carnage.  Go  on  pealing 
your  eloquence,  as  your  wont  is:  let  Drances  brand 
Turnus  with  cowardice,  for  it  is  Drances'  hand  that  has 
piled  those  very  heaps  of  Teucrian  slaughter,  and  is 
planting  the  fields  all  over  with  its  trophies.  What  is 
the  power  of  glowing  valor,  experiejice  may  show  3  ou : 
enemies  in  sootli  are  not  far  to  seek :  they  are  standing 
all  about  the  walls.  Well,  are  we  marching  to  the  en- 
counter ?  why  so  slow  ?  will  you  never  lodge  the  War- 
god  better  than  in  that  windy  tongue,  those  flying  feet? 
What?  beaten?  I?  who,  foulest  of  slanderers,  will 
justly  brand  me  as  beaten,  that  shall  look  on  Tiber 
still  swelling  with  Ilion's  best  blood,  on  Evander's 
whole  house  prostrate  root  and  branch,  and  his  Arca- 
dians stripped  naked  of  their  armor  ?  It  was  no  beaten 
arm  that  Bitias  and  giant  Pandarus  found  in  me,  or  the 
thousand  that  I  sent  to  death  in  a  single  day  with  my 
conquering  hand,  shut  up  within  their  walls,  pent  in  by 
the  rampart  of  the  foe.  No  hope  from  war?  Croak 
your  bodings,  madman,  in  the  ears  of  the  Dardan  and 
of  your  own  fortunes.  Ay,  go  on  without  cease, 
throwing  all  into  measureless  panic,  heightening  the 
prowess  of  a  nation  twice  conquered  already,  and 
dwarfing  no  less  the  arms  of  your  king.  See,  now  the 
lords  of  the  Myrmidons  are  quaking  at  the  martial 
deeds  of  Phrygia,  Tydeus'  son,  Thessalian  Achilles, 
and  the  rest,  and  river  Aufidus  is  in  full  retreat  from 
the  Hadrian  sea.  Or  listen  when  the  trickster  in  his 
villainy  feigns  himself  too  weak  to  face  a  quarrel  with 
me,  and  points  his  charges  with  the  sting  of  terror. 
Never,  I  promise  you,  shall  you  lose  such  life  as  yours 
by  hand  of  mine  —  be  troubled  no  longer  —  let  it  dwell 
with  you  and  retain  its  home  in  that  congenial  breast. 
Now,  gracious  sire,  I   return  to  you  and   the  august 


BOOK  XL  415 

matter  that  asks  our  counsel.  If  you  have  no  hope 
beyond  in  aught  our  arras  can  do,  if  we  are  so  wholly 
forlorn,  destroyed  root  and  branch  by  one  reverse,  and 
our  star  can  never  rise  again,  then  pray  we  for  peace 
and  stretch  craven  hands  in  suppliance.  Yet,  oh,  had 
we  but  one  spark  of  the  worth  that  once  was  ours,  that 
man  I  would  esteem  blessed  beyond  others  in  his  service 
and  princely  of  soul,  who,  sooner  than  look  on  aught 
like  this,  has  lain  down  in  death  and  once  for  all  bitten 
the  dust.  But  if  we  have  still  store  of  power,  and  a 
harvest  of  youth  yet  unreaped,  if  there  are  cities  and 
nations  of  Italy  yet  to  come  to  our  aid,  if  the  Trojans 
as  well*  as  we  have  won  their  glory  at  much  bloodshed's 
cost — for  thej' too  have  their  deaths  —  the  hurricane 
has  swept  over  all  alike  —  why  do  we  merely  falter  on 
the  threshold?  why  are  we  seized  with  shivering  ere 
the  trumpet  blows  ?  Many  ^  man's  weal  has  been  re- 
stored by  time  and  the  changeful  struggles  of  shifting 
days  :  many  a  man  has  Fortune,  fair  and  foul  by  turns, 
made  her  sport  and  then  once  more  placed  on  a  rock. 
Grant  that  we  shall  have  no  help  from  the  -^tolian  and 
his  Arpi :  but  we  shall  from  Messapus,  and  the  blessed 
Tolumnius,  and  all  the  leaders  that  those  man}^  nations 
have  sent  us ;  nor  small  shall  be  the  glory  which  will 
wait  on  the  flower  of  Latium  and  the  Laurentine  land. 
Ay,  and  we  have  Camilla,  of  the  noble  Volscian  race, 
with  a  band  of  horsemen  at  her  back  and  troops  gleam- 
ing with  brass.  If  it  is  I  alone  that  the  Teucrians 
challenge  to  the  fight,  and  such  is  your  will,  and  my 
life  is  indeed  the  standing  obstacle  to  the  good  of  all, 
Victory  has  not  heretofore  fled  with  such  loathing  from 
my  hands  that  I  should  refuse  to  make  my  venture  for 
a  hope  so  glorious.  No,  I  will  confront  him  boldly, 
though  he   should  prove 'great  as  Achilles,  and  don 


416  THE  JENEID. 

harness  like  his,  the  work  of  Vulcan's  art.  To  you  and 
to  my  royal  father-in-law  have  I  here  devoted  this  my 
life,  I,  Turnus,  second  in  valor  to  none  that  went  be- 
fore me.  "  For  me  alone  -^neas  calls."  Vouchsafe 
that  he  may  so •  call!  nor  let  Drances  in  my  stead,  if 
the  issue  be  Heaven's  vengeance,  forfeit  his  life,  or  if  it 
be  prowess  and  glory,  bear  that  prize  away  ! ' 

So  were  these  contending  over  matters  of  doubtful 
debate :  JEneas  was  moving  his  army  from  camp  to 
field.  See,  there  runs  a  messenger  from  end  to  end  of 
the  palace  amid  wild  confusion,  and  fills  the  town  with 
a  mighty  terror,  how  that  in  marching  array  the  Trojans 
and  the  Tuscan  force  are  sweeping  down  from  Tiber's 
stream  over  all  the  plain.  In  an  instant  the  minds 
of  the  people  are  confounded,  their  bosoms  shaken 
to  the  core,  their  passions  goaded  by  no  gentle  stings. 
They  clutch  at  arms,  clanjor  for  arms :  arms  are  the 
young  men's  cry :  the  weeping  fathers  moan  and  mut- 
ter. And  now  a  mighty  din,  blended  of  discordant 
voices,  soars  up  to  the  skies,  even  as  when  hapl}^  flocks 
of  birds  have  settled  down  in  a  lofty  grove,  or  on  the 
fishy  stream  of  Padusa  hoarse  swans  make  a  noise 
along  the  babbling  waters.  '  Ay,  good  citizens,'  cries 
Turnus,  seizing  on  his  moment,  '  assemble  your  council 
and  sit  praising  peace  ;  they  are  rushing  on  the  realm 
sword  in  hand.'  Without  further  speech  he  dashed 
away  and  issued  swiftly  from  the  lofty  gate.  '  You, 
Volusus,'  he  cries,  '  bid  the  Volscian  squadrons  arm, 
and  lead  out  the  Rutulians.  You,  Messapus,  and  you, 
Coras  and  your  brother,  spread  the  horse  in  battle 
array  over  the  breadth  of  the  plain.  Let  some  guard 
the  inlets  of  the  city  and  man  the  towers;  the  rest 
attack  with  me  in  the  quarter  for  which  I  give  the 
word.'    At  once  there  is  a  rush  to  the  ramparts  from 


BOOK  XL  417 

every  part  of  the  city  :  king  Latinus  leaves  the  council 
and  the  high  debate  unfinished,  and  wildered  with  the 
unhappy  time,  adjourns  to  another  day,  ofttimes  blam- 
ing himself  that  he   welcomed   not  with  open   arms 
-^neas  the  Dardan,  and  bestowed  on  the  city  a  hus- 
band for  the  daughter  of  Latium.     Others  dig  trenches 
before  the  gates  or  shoulder  stones  and  stakes.     The 
hoarse  trumpet  gives  its  deathful  warning  for  battle. 
The  walls  are  hemmed  by  a  motley  ring  of  matrons  and 
boys :  the  call  of  the  last  struggle  rings  in  each  one's 
ear.     Moreover  the  queen  among  a  vast  train  of  La- 
tian  mothers   is  drawn  to  the  temple,  even  to  Pallas' 
tower  on  the  height,  with  presents  in  her  hand,  and  at 
her  side  the  maid  Lavinia,  cause  of  this  cruel  woe,  her 
beauteous   eyes  cast  down.      The  matrons  enter  the 
temple  and  make  it  steam  with  incense,  and  pour  from 
the  august  threshold  their  plaints  of  sorrow :  '  Lady  of 
ai-ms,  mistress  of  the  war,  Tritonian  maiden,  stretch 
forth  th}^  hand  and  break  the  spear  of  the  Phrygian 
freebooter,  laj^  him  prostrate  on  the  ground,  and  leave 
him  to  grovel  under  our  lofty  portals.'    Tumus  with 
emulous  fury  arms  himself  for  the  battle.     And  now  he 
has  donned  his  ruddy  corselet,  and  is  bristling  with 
brazen  scales ;  his  calves  have  been  sheathed  in  gold, 
his  temples  yet  bare,  and  his  sword  has  been  girded  to 
his  side,  and  he  shines  as  he  runs  all  golden  from  the 
stjeep  of  the  citadel,  bounding  high  with  courage,  and 
in  hope   already  forestalls  the   foe:   even   as  when  a 
horse,  bursting  his  tether,  escapes  from  the  stall,  free 
at  last  and  master  of  the  open  champaign,  either  wends 
where  the  herds  of  mares  pasture,  or  wont  to  bathe  in 
the  well-known  river  darts  forth  and  neighs  with  head 
tossed  on  high  in  wanton  frolic,  while  his  mane  plays 
loosely  about   neck  and  shoulders.    His  path  Camilla 
27 


418  THE  jENEID. 

crosses,  a  Volscian  army  at  her  back,  and  dismounts 
from  her  horse  at  the  gate  with  queenly  gesture ;  the 
whole  band  follow  her  lead,  quit  their  horses,  and  swim 
down  to  earth,  while  she  bespeaks  him  thus  :  '  Turnus, 
if  the  brave  may  feel  faith  in  themselves,  I  promise 
boldly  to  confront  the  cavalry  of  Troy  and  singly  ride 
to  meet  the  Tyrrhene  horse.  Let  me  essay  the  first 
hazard  of  the  combat ;  do  yon  on  foot  remain  by  the 
walls  and  be  the  city's  guard.'  Turnus  replies,  gazing 
steadfastly  on  the  dreadful  maid  :  '  O  maiden,  glory  of 
Ital}',  what  thanks  shall  I  strive  to  speak  or  render? 
but  seeing  that  soul  of  3^ours  soars  above  all,  partake 
the  toil  with  me.  ^neas,  as  rumor  and  missioned  spies 
tell  me  for  truth,  has  cunningly  sent  on  his  light-armed 
cavalry  to  scour  the  plain,  while  he,  surmounting  the 
lonely  steeps  of  the  hill,  is  marching  townward.  I 
meditate  a  stratagem  of  war  in  that  woodland  gorge,  to 
beset  the  narrow  thoroughfare  with  an  armed  band. 
Do  you  in  battle  array  receive  the  Tuscan  horse.  With 
you  will  be  keen  Messapus,  and  the  Latian  cavalry, 
and  Tiburtus'  troop :  take  your  share  of  a  general's 
charge.'  This  said,  he  exhorts  Messapus  and  the  fed- 
erate leaders  with  like  words  to  the  fight,  and  advances 
to  meet  the  enemj^  A  glen  there  is,  narrow  and  wind- 
ing, suited  for  ambush  and  stratagems  of  arms,  pent  in 
on  both  sides  by  a  mountain- wall  black  with  dense  foli- 
age ;  a  scant  pathway  leads  to  it,  with  straitened  gor^e 
and  jealous  inlet.  Above  it  on  the  mountain's  watch- 
tower  height  lies  a  concealed  table-land,  a  post  of  shel- 
tered privacy,  whether  one  be  minded  to  face  the  battle 
right  and  left,  or,  standing  on  the  slope,  to  roll  down 
enormous  stones.  Hither  repairs  the  warrior  along  the 
well-known  road:  he  has  occupied  the  spot  and  sat 
him  down  in  the  treacherous  forest. 


BOOK  XL  419 

Meantime,  in  the  mansions  above  Latona^s  daughter 
was  addressing  Opis  the  swift,  a  maiden  comrade  of 
her  sacred  train,  and  was  uttering  these  words  in 
tones  of  sorrow :  '  Ah,  maiden,  Camilla  is  on  her  way 
to  the  ruthless  war ;  in  vain  she  girds  herself  with  the 
arms  of  our  sisterhood,  dear  to  me  that  she  is  be3'ond 
all  beside :  for  no  new  tenderness  this  that  has  come 
on  Diana,  nor  sudden  the  spell  wherewith  it  stirs  her 
heart.  When  Metabus,  exiled  for  the  hate  which 
tyranny  genders,  was  parting  from  Privernum,  his 
ancient  cit}',  as  he  fled'  from  the  heart  of  the  combat, 
he  bore  away  his  infant  child  to  share  his  banishment, 
and  varying  Casmilla,  her  mother's  name,  called  her 
Camilla.  The  father,  carrying  her  in  his  bosom,  was 
making  for  the  long  mountain  slopes  of  the  solitary 
woods,  while  bitter  javelins  were  showering  all  around 
him,  and  the  Volscians  with  circling  soldiery  hovering 
about :  when  lo  !  intercepting  his  flight  was  Amasenus, 
brimming  and  foaming  over  its  banks,  so  vast  a  del- 
uge of  rain  had  burst  from  the  clouds.  Preparing  to 
plunge  in,  he  is  checked  by  tenderness  for  his  child, 
and  fears  for  the  precious  load.  At  last,  as  he  pon- 
dered over  every  course,  he  hit  suddenly  on  this  re- 
solve. There  was  a  huge  weapon,  which  he  chanced 
to  be  carrying  in  his  stalwart  hand  as  warriors  use, 
sturd}^  with  knots  and  seasoned  timber  :  to  it  he  fastens 
his  daughter,  inclosed  in  the  cork-tree's  forest  bark, 
and  binds  her  neatly  round  the  middle  of  the  shaft ; 
then,  poising  it  in  a  giant's  grasp,  he  thus  exclaims  to 
heaven :  '*  Gracious  lady,  dweller  in  the  woods,  Lato- 
na's  maiden  daughter,  I  vow  to  thy  service  this  my 
child  :  thine  are  the  first  weapons  that  she  wields  as 
she  flies  from  the  foe  through  air  to  thy  protection. 
Receive,  I  conjure  thee,  as  thine  own  her  whom  I  now 


420  THE  jENEID, 

intrust  to  the  uncertain  gale."  He  said,  and,  drawing 
back  his  arm,  hurled  the  javelin:  loud  roared  the 
waves,  while  over  the  furious  stream  fled  poor  Camilla 
on  the  hurtling  dart.  But  Metabus,  pressed  closer 
and  closer  b}^  the  numerous  band,  leaps  into  the  river, 
and  in  triumph  plucks  from  the  grass}^  bank  his  offer- 
ing to  Trivia,  the  javelin  and  the  maid.  No  cities 
opened  to  him  house  or  stronghold,  for  his  wild  nature 
had  never  brooked  submission  :  among  the  shepherds' 
lonel}'  mountains  he  passed  his  days.  There  in  the 
woods,  among  beasts'  savage  lairs,  he  reared  his  daugh- 
ter on  milk  from  the  breast  of  an  untamed  mare, 
squeezing  the  udder  into  her  tender  lips.  And  soon  as 
the  child  first  stood  on  her  feet,  he  armed  her  hands 
with  a  pointed  javelin,  and  hung  from  her  baby  shoul- 
der a  quiver  and  a  bow.  For  the  golden  brooch  in 
her  hair,  for  the  long  sweeping  mantle,  there  hang 
from  her  head  adown  her  back  a  tiger's  spoils.  Even 
then  she  launched  with  tin}'  hand  her  childish  missiles, 
swung  round  her  head  the  sling's  well-turned  thong, 
and  brought  down  a  crane  from  Strymon  or  a  snow- 
white  swan.  Many  a  mother  in  T3Trhene  town  has 
wooed  her  for  her  son  in  vain :  with  no  thought  but 
for  Dian,  she  cherishes  in  unsullied  purity  her  love  for 
the  hunter's  and  the  maiden's  life.  Would  she  had 
never  been  pressed  for  warfare  like  this,  essaying  to 
strike  a  blow  at  the  Teucrians :  so  had  she  still  been 
my  darhng  and  a  sister  of  my  train.  But  come,  since 
cruel  destiny  is  darkening  round  her,  glide  down,  fair 
nymph,  from  the  sky,  and  repair  to  the  Latian  frontier, 
where  now  in  an  evil  hour  the  tearful  battle  is  joining. 
Take  these  arras,  and  draw  from  the  quiver  an  aveng- 
ing shaft :  therewith  let  the  foe,  whoever  he  be,  Trojan 
or  Italian,  that  shall  profane  with  the  stroke  of  death 


BOOK  XL  421 

that  sacred  person,  make  to  me  in  like  manner  the 
atonement  of  his  blood.  Afterwards  in  the  hollow  of 
a  cloud  I  will  bear  off  the  body  of  my  lost  favorite 
undespoiled  of  its  arms,  and  lay  her  down  in  her  own 
land.*  Thus  she  :  and  Opis  hurtled  downward  through 
the  buoyant  air,  a  black  whirlwind  ins wathing  her  form. 
But  the  Trojan  band  meanwhile  is  nearing  the  walls 
with  the  Etruscan  chiefs  and  the  whole  arra}"  of  cav- 
ahy,  marshaled  into  companies.  Steeds  are  prancing 
and  neighing  the  whole  champaign  over,  and  chafing 
against  the  drawn  bridle  as  they  face  hither  and  thither : 
the  field,  all  iron,  bristles  far  and  wide  with  spears,  and 
the  plains  are  ablaze  with  arms  reared  on  high.  Like- 
wise Messapus  on  the  other  side  and  the  swift-paced 
Latians,  and  Coras  and  his  brother,  and  maid  Camilla's 
force  appear  in  the  plain  against  them,  couching  the 
lance  in  their  backdrawn  hands  and  brandishing  the 
javelin :  and  the  onset  of  warriors  and  the  neighing 
of  steeds  begin  to  wax  hot.  And  now  each  army  had 
halted  within  a  spear-throw  of  the  other :  with  a  sud- 
den shout  they  dash  forward,  and  put  spurs  to  their 
fiery  steeds :  missiles  are  showered  from  all  sides  in  a 
moment,  thick  as  snow-flakes,  and  heaven  is  curtained 
with  the  shade.  Instantly  Tyrrhenus  and  fierce  Acon- 
teus  charge  each  other  spear  in  hand,  and  foremost 
of  all  crash  together  with  sound  as  of  thunder,  so  that 
the  chest  of  either  steed  is  burst  against  his  fellow's ; 
Aconteus,  flung  off"  like  the  levin-bolt  or  a  stone 
hurled  from  an  engine,  tumbles  headlong  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  scatters  his  hfe  in  air.  At  once  the  line 
of  battle  is  broken,  and  the  Latians,  turned  to  flight, 
sling  their  shields  behind  them  and  set  their  horses* 
heads  cityward.  The  Trojans  give  them  chase :  Asilas 
in  the  van  leads  their  bands.     And  now  they  were 


422  THE  ^NEID. 

nearing  the  gates,  when  the  Latians  in  turn  set  up  a 
shout,  and  turn  their  chargers'  limber  necks  ;  the  others 
fly,  and  retreat  far  away  at  full  speed.  As  when  the 
sea,  advancing  with  its  tide  that  ebbs  and  flows,  one 
while  sweeps  towards  the  land,  deluges  the  rocks  with 
a  shower  of  spray,  and  sprinkles  the  sandy  margin 
with  the  contents  of  its  bosom,  one  while  flees  in  hasty 
retreat,  dragging  back  into  the  gulf  the  recaptured 
stones,  and  with  ebbing  waters  leaves  the  shore.  Twice 
the  Tuscans  drove  the  RutuHans  in  rout  to  their  walls  ; 
twice,  repulsed,  they  look  behind  as  they  sling  their 
shields  backward.  But  when  in  the  shock  of  a  third 
encounter  the  entire  armies  grapple  each  other,  and 
man  has  singled  out  man,  then  in  truth  upsoar  the 
groans  of  the  d^ing,  and  arms  and  bodies  and  death- 
stricken  horses  blended  with  human  carnage  welter  in 
pools  of  gore :  and  a  savage  combat  is  aroused.  Or- 
silochus  hurls  a  spear  at  Remulus'  horse  —  for  the 
rider  he  feared  to  encounter  —  and  leaves  the  steel 
lodged  under  the  ear.  Maddened  by  the  blow,  the 
beast  rears  erect,  and,  uplifting  its  breast,  flings  its 
legs  on  high  in  the  uncontrolled  agony  of  the  wound : 
Remulus  unseated  rolls  on  earth.  Catillus  dismounts 
loUas,  and  likewise  Herminius,  giant  in  courage,  and 
giant  too  in  stature  and  girth :  his  bare  head  streams 
with  yellow  locks,  and  his  shoulders  also  are  bare : 
wounds  have  no  terrors  for  him,  so  vast  the  sur- 
face he  offers  to  the  weapon.  Through  his  broad 
shoulders  comes  the  quivering  spear,  and  bows  the 
impaled  hero  double  with  anguish.  Black  streams  of 
gore  gush  on  all  sides  :  the  combatants  spread  slaughter 
with  the  steel,  and  rush  on  glorious  death  through  a 
storm  of  wounds. 
But  Camilla,  with  a  quiver  at  her  back,  and  one 


BOOK  XL  423 

breast  put  forth  for  the  combat,  leaps  for  joy  like  an 
Amazon  in  the  midst  of  carnage:  now  she  scatters 
thick  volleys  of  quivering  javehns,  now  her  arm  whirls 
unwearied  the  mass}'  two-edged  ax :  while  fro'm  her 
shoulder  sounds  the  golden  bow,  the  artillery  of  Dian. 
Na}',  if  ever  she  be  beaten  back  and  retreating  rear- 
ward, she  turns  her  bow  and  aims  shafts  in  her  flight. 
Around  her  are  her  chosen  comrades,  maid  Larina,  and 
Tulla,  and  Tarpeia,  wielding  the  brazen-helved  hatchet, 
daughters  of  Italy,  whom  glorious  Camilla  herself  chose 
to  be  her  J03'  and  pride,  able  to  deal  alike  with  peace 
and  war :  even  as  the  Amazons  of  Thrace  when  they 
thunder  over  the  streams,  of  Thermodon  and  battle  with 
their  blazoned  arms,  encompassing  Hippolyte,  or  when 
Penthesilea,  the  War-god's  darling,  is  careering  to  and 
fro  in  her  chariot,  and  the  woman  army,  amid  a  hubbub 
of  shrill  cries,  are  leaping  in  ecstasy  and  shaking  their 
moony  shields.  Who  first,  who  last,  fierce  maiden,  is 
unhorsed  by  your  dart?  How  many  stalwart  bodies 
lay  you  low  in  death?  The  first  was  Euneus,  Clytius* 
son,  whose  unguarded  breast  as  he  stood  fronting  her  she 
pierces  with  her  long  pine-wood  spear.  Down  he  goes, 
disgorging  streams  of  blood,  closes  his  teeth  on  the  gory 
soil,  and  d3ung  writhes  upon  his  wound.  Then  Liris, 
and  Pagasus  on  his  body :  while  that,  flung  from  his 
stabbed  charger,  is  gathering  up  the  reins,  and  this  is 
coming  to  the  rescue  and  stretching  his  unarmed  hand 
to  his  falUng  comrade,  they  are  overthrown  in  one  head- 
long ruin.  To  these  she  adds  Amastrus,  son  of  Hip- 
potas :  then,  pressing  on  the  rout,  pursues  with  her 
spear-throw  Tereus,  and  Harpatycus,  and  Demophoon, 
and  Chromis :  for  every  dart  she  launched  from  her 
maiden  hand  there  fell  a  Phrygian  warrior.  In  the 
distance  rides  Ornytus  accoutered  strangely  in  hunter 


424  THE  ^NEID. 

fashion  on  an  lapygian  steed :  a  hide  stripped  from  a 
bullock  swathes  his  broad  shoulders  in  the  combat,"  his 
head  is  sheltered  by  a  wolf's  huge  grinning  mouth  and 
jaws  with  the  white  teeth  projecting,  and  a  rustic  pike 
arms  his  hand  :  he  goes  whirling  through  the  ranks,  his 
whole  head  overtopping  them.  Him  she  catches,  an 
easy  task  when  the  hosts  are  entangled  in  rout,  pierces 
him  through,  and  thus  bespeaks  the  fallen  in  the  fierce- 
ness of  her  spirit :  '  Tuscan,  you  thought  3'ourself  still 
chasing  beasts  in  the  forest ;  but  the  day  is  come  which 
shall  refute  the  vaunts  of  3'our  nation  by  a  woman's 
weapons.  Yet  no  slight  glory  shall  3'ou  carry  down  to 
3^our  fathers'  shades,  that  3^011  have  fallen  by  the  dart 
of  Camilla.'  Next  follow  Orsilochus  and  Butes,  two  of 
the  hugest  frames  of  Troy :  Butes  she  speared  behind 
'twixt  corselet  and  helm,  where  the  sitter's  neck  is  seen 
gleaming,  and  the  shield  is  hanging  from  the  left  arm : 
Orsilochus,  as  she  pretends  to  fly  and  wheels  round  in 
a  mighty  ring,  she  baffles  by  ever  circling  inwards,  and 
chases  him  that  chases  her :  at  last,  rising  to  the  stroke, 
she  brings  down  on  the  wretch  again  and  again,  spite 
of  all  his  praj^ers,  her  massy  battle-ax  that  rives  armor 
and  bone :  the  brain  spouts  over  the  face  through  the 
ghastly  wound.  Now  there  stumbles  upon  her,  and 
pauses  in  terror  at  the  sudden  apparition,  the  warrior 
son  of  Annus,  dweller  on  the  Apennine,  not  the  mean- 
est of  Liguria's  children  while  Fate  prospered  his  trick- 
ery. He,  when  he  sees  no  speed  of  flight  can  escape 
the  combat,  or  avoid  the  onset  of  the  dreadful  queen, 
essaying  to  gain  his  base  end  by  policy  and  stratagem, 
thus  begins  :  '  What  great  glory  is  it  after  all,  if  you,  a 
woman,  trust  your  mettled  steed  ?  Put  away  the  chance 
of  flight,  and  dare  to  meet  me  hand  to  hand  on  equal 
ground,  and  gird  you  for  battle  on  foot :  soon  shall  you 


BOOK  XL  425 

see  which  of  us  gains  honor  from  this  windy  boasting.* 
He  said :  but  she,  all  on  fire,  stung  with  bitter  grief, 
gives  her  horse  to  her  comrade,  and  stands  ready  to 
meet  him  in  arms,  fearless  though  on  foot,  with  naked 
sword  and  maiden  shield.  But  the  youth,  deeming 
that  his  wiles  had  sped,  darts  away  without  more  ado, 
and  turning  his  bridle,  rides  off  in  flight,  and  wearies 
his  beast  with  the  strokes  of  his  iron  heel.  'False 
Ligurian,  vainly  puffed  up  with  overweening  fancies,  to 
no  end  have  you  tried  your  sire's  slippery  craft,  nor 
shall  your  l3'ing  bring  jou  safe  to  Annus  the  liar.'  So 
cries  the  maiden,  and  with  lightning-like  pace  crosses 
at  full  speed  the  horse's  path,  and  seizing  the  reins, 
fronts  and  encounters  him,  and  gluts  her  vengeance 
with  his  hated  blood :  easily  as  a  hawk,  the  bird  of 
augury,  darting  from  a  lofty  rock,  comes  up  with  a 
dove  high  in  the  clouds,  holds  her  in  his  gripe,  and 
with  crooked  talons  tears  out  her  heart,  while  gore  and 
plucked  feathers  come  tumbling  from  the  sky. 

But  no  blind  spectator  of  the  scene  is  sitting  throned 
on  high  Olympus,  even  the  father  of  men  and  gods. 
The  sire  urges  Tarchon  the  Tuscan  to  the  ruthless  fray, 
and  goads  him  to  wrath  b}^  no  gentle  stings.  So  among 
heaps  of  carnage  and  yielding  bands  Tarchon  goes 
riding,  and  rouses  the  cavalry  with  words  of  diverse 
purport,  calling  each  by  his  name,  and  gives  the  beaten 
new  strength  for  battle.  '  What  terror,  O  ye  Tuscan 
hearts  that  will  not  feel,  that  will  still  be  sluggish, 
what  strange  cowardice  has  come  on  you?  To  what 
end  is  this  steel,  these  idle  weapons  our  right  hands 
bear?  But  slow  ye  are  not  to  hear  the  call  of  love,  or 
when  the  wry-necked  fife  gives  the  word  for  the  Bacchic 
dance :  ay,  there  is  your  passion,  there  your  delight, 
till  the  favoring  seer  announce  the  sacrificial  feast,  and 


426  THE  ^NEID. 

the  fat  victim  invite  you  to  the  tall  trees  of  the  grove.' 
So  saying,  he  spurs  his  steed  into  the  midst,  ready  for 
the  death  he  brings  to  others,  and  charges  in  fury  on 
Venulus,  snatches  the  foe  from  his  horse,  folds  his  arms 
round  him,  and  carries  him  on  his  saddle  before-  him 
with  wild  and  violent  speed.  Upsoars  a  shout  to 
heaven,  and  every  Latian  e}^  is  turned  to  the  scene. 
Over  the  plain  like  lightning  flies  Tarchon,  bearing  the 
warrior  and  his  arms.  Then  from  the  top  of  the  chief's 
own  spear  he  breaks  off  the  point,  and  feels  for  an  un- 
guarded part  where  to  plant  the  deadly  blow :  the  foe, 
struggling,  keeps  off  Tarchon's  hand  from  his  throat, 
and  repels  force  with  force.  As  when  the  golden  eagle 
soaring  on  high  carries  a  serpent  he  has  caught,  trussing 
it  in  his  claws,  and  adhering  with  his  taloned  gripe ; 
the  wounded  reptile  writhes  its  spiral  coils,  stiffens  with 
erected  scales,  and  hisses  from  its  mouth,  surging  and 
swelling ;  the  eagle,  undismaj'ed,  plies  it  despite  its 
struggles  with  his  hooked  beak,  while  his  pinions  beat 
the  air :  even  thus  Tarchon  carries  his  prize  in  triumph 
from  the  bands  of  Tibur's  folk.  Following  their  chief's 
auspicious  lead,  the  sons  of  Mseonia  charge  the  foe. 
Then  Arruns,  the  man  of  fate,  compasses  swift  Camilla 
about,  dart  in  hand,  with  manj^  a  forestalling  wile,  and 
tries  what  chance  may  be  readiest.  Wherever  the  fiery 
maid  dashes  into  the  midst  of  the  battle,  Arruns  threads 
his  way  after  her,  and  scans  her  steps  in  silence  :  wher- 
ever she  returns  in  triumph,  escaping  safely  from  the 
foe,  that  way  the  youth  turns  his  swift  and  stealthy  rein  ; 
now  makes  proof  of  this  approach,  now  of  that,  and 
traverses  the  whole  circle,  and  shakes  with  relentless 
malice  his  inevitable  lance.  It  chanced  that  one  Chlo- 
reus,  sacred  to  C^^bele  and  once  her  priest,  was  shining 
conspicuous  from  afar  in  Phrygian  armor,  urging  on  a 


BOOK  XL  427 

foaming  charger,  whose  covering  was  a  skin  adorned 
with  golden  clasp  and  brazen  scales  set  plume-wise. 
He,  in  the  blaze  of  foreign  purple,  was  launching 
Gortynian  shafts  from  a  Ljcian  bow ;  golden  was  the 
bow  that  rang  from  his  shoulder,  golden  the  helm  on 
his  sacred  head ;  his  saffron  scarf  with  its  rustling 
gauz}'  folds  was  gathered  up  by  a  golden  brooch,  and 
his  tunic  and  his  hose  decked  with  barbaric  broider}-. 
He  it  was  that  the  maiden,  eager,  it  maj^  be,  to  fasten 
on  the  temple-gate  the  arms  of  Troy,  or  to  flaunt  her- 
self in  the  golden  spoil,  singled  out  from  all  the  battle, 
and  was  following  with  a  hunter's  blind  devotion,  raging 
recklessly  through  the  ranks,  enkindled  with  a  woman's 
love  for  prey  and  plunder ;  when  at  length,  seizing  his 
opportunity,  Arruns  awakes  his  dart  from  its  ambush, 
and  thus  prays  aloud  to  heaven :  '  Greatest  of  gods, 
Apollo,  guardian  of  divine  Soracte,  whom  we  are  the 
first  to  worship,  for  whom  the  pine-tree  glow  is  fed  by 
heaps  of  wood,  while  ourselves,  thy  votaries,  strong  in 
our  piety,  walk  through  the  flame  over  living  embers, 
grant,  all-powerful  sire,  that  my  arms  may  wipe  this 
scandal  away.  I  seek  no  plunder  or  spoil,  no  trophy 
for  the  conquest  of  a  maid  ;  the  rest  of  my  deeds  shall 
secure  my  fame ;  let  but  this  terrible  fiend  fall  van- 
quished by  wound  of  mine,  I  will  return  to  the  cities 
of  my  fathers  an  unhonored  man.'  Phoebus  heard, 
and  vouchsafed  in  his  heart  that  half  the  vow  should 
speed,  while  half  he  scattered  among  the  fiying  breezes  : 
to  strike  and  sla}^  Camilla  with  sudden  death-wound, 
so  much  he  grants  the  suppliant :  to  return  and  meet 
the  eyes  of  his  noble  fatherland,  this  he  allows  not ; 
the  gusts  of  air  turned  the  accents  into  wind.  So  when 
the  spear,  launched  from  the  hand,  was  heard  along  the 
sky,  each  keen  Volscian  mind  flew  to  one  center,  every 


428  THE  jENEID. 

Volscian  eye  was  bent  on  the  queen.  She  alone  had 
no  thought  for  wind  or  sound  or  weapon  sweeping 
down  from  heaven,  till  the  spear  had  made  its  passage 
and  lodged  beneath  her  protruded  breast,  and  deeply 
driven,  drank  her  maiden  blood.  Her  comrades  run 
together  in  alarm,  and  support  their  falling  mistress. 
Arruns,  more  terrified  than  all,  flies  awaj^,  half  joy, 
half  fear,  nor  puts  further  confidence  in  his  lance,  nor 
.  dares  to  meet  the  darts  of  the  maiden.  Even  as  the 
caitifl"  wolf,  ere  the  weapons  of  vengeance  can  follow 
him,  has  fled  at  once  to  the  pathless  privacy  of  the 
mountain  steep,  on  slaying  a  shepherd  or  mighty  bul- 
lock, conscious  of  his  daring  deed,  and  drawing  back 
his  quivering  tail  with  lithe  action  has  clapped  it  to  his 
belly  and  made  for  the  woods,  in  like  manner  Arruns 
all  wildered  has  stolen  awaj'  from  sight,  and  contented 
to  escape  has  plunged  into  the  thick  of  the  battle. 
With  dying  hand  the  maiden  pulls  at  the  spear ;  but 
,the  steely  point  stands  lodged  among  the  bones  at  the 
ribs  in  the  deep  wound  it  made.  Drained  of  blood, 
she  sinks  to  earth ;  sink,  too,  her  death-chilled  eyes ; 
her  once  bright  bloom  has  left  her  face.  Then  at  her 
last  gasp  she  accosts  Acca,  one  of  her  maiden  train, 
who  beyond  the  rest  was  Camilla's  friend  and  shared 
her  thoughts,  and  speaks  on  this  wise :  '  Thus  far, 
sister  Acca,  has  strength  been  given  me :  now  the 
cruel  wound  overcomes  me  ;  and  all  around  me  grows 
dim  and  dark.  Haste  and  carry  Turnus  my  dying 
charge,  to  take  my  place  in  the  battle  and  keep  off  the 
Trojans  from  the  town.  And  now  farewell.'  As  she 
spoke  she  dropped  the  bridle,  swimming  down  to  earth 
with  no  willing  act.  Then  as  the  death-chill  grows  she 
gradually  discumbers  herself  of  the  entire  weight  of 
the  body,  droops  her  unstrung  neck  and  her  head  on 


BOOK  XL  42^ 

which  fate  has  seized,  quitting  too  her  armor,  and  her 
soul,  resenting  its  lot,  flies  groaningly  to  the  shades. 
Then  indeed,  rising  unmeasured,  the  uproar  strikes  the 
golden  stars :  Camilla  overthrown,  the  fight  waxes 
fiercer:  on  the}'  rush  thickening,  at  once  the  whole 
force  of  the  Teucrians,  and  the  TjTrhene  leaders,  and 
Evander's  Arcad  cavalry. 

But  Trivia's  sentinel  Opis  has  long  been  seated  high 
on  the  mountain  top,  an  undismayed  spectator  of  the 
combat.  And  when  far  off,  deep  among  the  din  of 
raging  warriors,  she  spied  Camilla  shent  by  ruthless 
death,  she  groaned,  and  fetched  these  words  from  the 
bottom  of  her  breast :  '  Poor  maiden !  too,  too  cruel 
the  penalty  3'ou  have  paid  for  provoking  the  Teucrians 
to  battle.  Naught  has  it  bestead  3'ou  at  3'our  need  to 
have  served  Dian  in  the  forest,  and  carried  on  3'our 
shoulder  the  shafts  of  our  sisterhood.  Yet  not  un- 
honored  has  your  queen  left  you  even  here  in  death's 
extremity  ;  nor  shall  this  j^our  end  be  without  its  glor\- 
in  the  world,  nor  yourself  bear  the  ignominy  of  the 
unrevenged ;  for  he,  whoever  he  be,  whose  wound  has 
profaned  3'our  person,  shall  atone  it  b3^  the  death  he 
has  earned.'  Under  the  lofty  mountain's  shade  there 
stood  a  vast  mound  of  earth,  the  tomb  of  Dercennus, 
an  old  Laurentine  king,  shrouded  with  dark  ilex  :  here 
the  beauteous  goddess  first  ahghts  with  a  rapid  bound, 
and  spies  out  Arruns  from  the  barrow's  height.  Soon 
as  she  saw  him  gleaming  in  his  armor,  and  swelling 
with  vanity,  '  Wh3'  stra3^  from  the  path  ? '  cries  she  ; 
*  turn  your  feet  hitherward  !  come  hither  to  3'Our  death, 
and  receive  Camilla's  guerdon  !  Alack !  and  are  you 
too  to  be  slain  b3"  the  shafts  of  Dian?*  She  said,  and 
with  the  skill  of  Thracian  maiden  drew  a  swift  arrow 
from  her  gilded  quiver,  bent  the  bow  with  deadl3'  aim, 


430  THE  JSNEID. 

and  drew  it  far  apart,  till  the  arching  ends  met  together, 
and  with  her  two  hands  she  touched,  the  barb  of  steel 
with  her  left,  her  breast  with  her  right  and  the  bow- 
string. Forthwith  the  hurtling  of  the  shaft  and  the 
rush  of  the  breeze  reached  Arruns'  ear  at  the  moment 
the  steel  lodged  in  his  body.  Him  gasping  and  groan- 
ing his  last  his  comrades  leave  unthinking  in  the  un- 
marked dust  of  the  plain :  Opis  spreads  her  wings, 
and  is  borne  to  skyey  Olympus. 

First  flies,  its  mistress  lost,  Camilla's  light-armed 
company ;  fly  the  Rutules  in  rout,  flies  keen  Atinas ; 
leaders  in  disarray  and  troops  in  devastation  make  for 
shelter,  turn  round,  and  gallop  to  the  walls.  None  can 
sustain  in  combat  the  Teucrians'  deadly  onset  or  resist 
the  stream  ;  they  throw  their  unstrung  bows  on  their 
unnerved  shoulders,  and  the  hoof  of  four-foot  steeds 
shakes  the  crumbling  plain.  On  rolls  to  the  ramparts 
a  cloud  of  dust,  thick  and  murk}^ ;  and  the  matrons 
from  their  sentrj-posts,  smiting  on  their  breasts,  raise 
a  shriek  as  women  wont  to  the  stars  of  heaven.  Who 
first  pour  at  speed  through  the  open  gates  are  whelmed 
by  a  multitude  of  foemen  that  blends  its  crowd  with 
theirs ;  they  scape  not  the  agon}^  of  death,  but  on  the 
very  threshold,  with  their  native  walls  around  them,  in 
the  sanctuary  of  home,  they  breathe  away  their  lives. 
Some  close  the  gates :  they  dare  not  give  ingress  to 
their  friends  nor  take  them  within  the  walls,  implore  as 
they  may :  and  a  piteous  carnage  ensues,  these  guard- 
ing the  approach  sword  in  hand,  those  rushing  on  the 
sword's  point.  Some,  borne  on  by  the  deluge,  stream 
headlong  into  the  moat ;  some  in  blind  agony,  spurring 
their  horses,  charge  as  with  battering-rams  the  portals 
and  their  stubborn  barriers.  Nay,  the  very  matrons 
on  the  walls  in  the  intensity  of  the  struggle,  prompted 


BOOK  XI.  431 

by  true  patriot  spirit  at  sight  of  Camilla,  fling  darts 
from  their  quivering  hands,  and  make  hard  oak-stakes 
and  seared  truncheons  do  the  work  of  steel,  hot  and 
headlong,  and  fain  would  be  the  first  to  die  for  their 
city. 

Meantime  the  cruel  news  floods  Turnus'  ears  in  his 
forest-ambush,  as  Acca  tells  the  warrior  her  tale  of 
mighty  terror :  the  Volscian  ranks  destroyed,  Camilla 
slain,  the  enemy  coming  on  like  a  torrent,  sweeping  all 
before  their  victorious  onslaught,  the  alarm  already 
wafted  to  the  walls.  He,  all  on  fire  (for  even  such  is 
Jove's  stern  requirement) ,  quits  his  post  on  the  hills, 
leaves  the  impregnable  forest.  Scarce  had  he  i^assed 
from  their  sight  and  occupied  the  plain,  when  father 
jEneas,  entering  the  unguarded  pass,  scales  the  hill-top, 
and  issues  through  the  shadowy  wood.  So  the  two 
rivals  march  cityward  at  full  speed,  each  with  all  his 
army,  nor  long  is  the  intervening  distance  ;  at  the  same 
moment  ^neas  looked  far  over  the  plains  all  smoking 
with  dust,  and  saw  the  host  of  Laurentum,  and  Turmis 
was  aware  of  fell  ^Eneas  in  battle  arra}-,  and  heard  the 
onward  tramp  of  feet  and  the  neighing  of  steeds.  In- 
stantly they  were  for  closing  in  fight  and  throwing  for 
the  stake  of  combat ;  but  the  time  was  come  for  red- 
dening Phoebus  to  bathe  his  wearied  team  in  the  Hibe- 
rian  flood,  and  bring  back  night  on  the  steps  of  re- 
treating day.  So  they  encamp  before  the  city,  and 
make  their  ramparts  strong. 


432  THE  MNEID. 


BOOK  XII. 

When  Turnus  sees  that  the  War-god's  enmity  has 
broken  the  spirit  of  Latiam,  that  men  are  beginning  to 
claim  his  promise,  and  make  him  the  mark  of  their 
eyes,  he  bursts  at  once  into  fury  unappeasable,  and 
swells  his  pride  to  the  height.  As  in  Punic  land,  when 
the  hunters  have  wounded  him  deep  in  the  breast,  the 
lion  at  last  rouses  himself  to  fight,  tosses  with  fierce 
joy  his  mane  from  his  neck,  snaps  fearlessly  the  bri- 
gand's spear  in  the  wound,  and  roars  from  his  gory 
mouth:  even  so,  Turnus  once  kindled,  his  vehemence 
grows  each  moment.  Then  he  addresses  the  king,  and 
dashes  hotly  into  speech :  '  Turnus  stops  not  the  waj^ : 
-^neas  and  his  cowards  have  no  plea  for  retracting 
their  challenge  or  disowning  their  plighted  word ;  I 
meet  the  combat ;  bring  the  sacred  things,  good  father, 
and  solemnize  the  truce.  Either  will  I  with  my  own 
right  hand  send  the  Dardan  down  to  Tartarus,  the  run- 
away from  Asia  —  let  the  Latians  sit  by  and  see  —  and 
with  my  single  weapon  refute  the  slander  of  a  nation  ; 
or  let  the  vanquished  own  their  master  and  Lavinia  be 
the  conqueror's  bride.' 

With  calm  dignity  of  soul  the  king  makes  answer : 
'Gallant  youth,  the  greater  your  impetuous  valor,  the 
more  watchful  must  needs  be  my  foresight,  the  more 
anxious  my  scrutiny  of  all  that  may  happen.  You 
have  your  father  Daunus*  kingdom,  you  have  many  a 
town  won  by  your  own  sword  :  I  that  speak  have  gold 
and  a  heart  to  give  it ;  in  Latium  and  Laurentum's  land 
are  other  un wedded  maidens,  of  no  unworthy  lineage. 


BOOK  XII.  488 

Suffer  me  without  disguise  to  give  voice  to  these  un- 
welcome sayings,  and  take  home  what  I  speak  further : 
I  was  forbidden  b}'  Fate  to  give  m}^  daughter  to  any  of 
her  early  suitors  :  so  sang  gods  and  men  alike.  Con- 
quered by  my  love  for  you,  conquered  b}^  the  ties  of 
kindred  and  the  sorrow  of  my  weeping  queen,  I  set  all 
pledges  at  naught,  I  snatched  the  bride  from  her 
plighted  husband.  I  drew  the  unhallowed  sword. 
From  that  fatal  day  you  see  what  troubles,  what  wars 
are  let  loose  upon  me ;  you  know  the  weight  of  the 
sufferings  which  you  are  the  first  to  feel.  Twice  van- 
quished in  a  mighty  conflict,  we  scarce  protect  by  our 
bulwarks  the  hopes  of  Italy:  Tiber's  waters  are  yet 
steaming  with  our  blood,  and  the  spacious  plains  are 
whitened  b}'  our  bones.  Whither  am  I  drifting  again 
and  again  ?  what  madness  turns  my  brain  ?  If  on  the 
death  of  Turnus  I  am  ready  to  welcome  these  new 
allies,  wh}^  should  I  not  end  the  strife  while  he  lives 
and  is  safe?  What  will  our  Rutulian  kinsmen  say, 
what  the  rest  of  Italy,  if — may  Fortune  forefend  the 
omen  !  —  I  give  you  up  to  death,  3'ou,  a  suitor  for  my 
alliance,  for  my  daughter's  hand?  Think  of  the  un- 
certainties of  war ;  have  pity  on  your  aged  sire,  now 
biding  forlornl}'  far  away  in  his  Ardean  home !  * 

These  words  abate  not  Turnus'  vehemence  a  whit :  it 
starts  up  fiercer,  more  virulent  for  the  healing  hand. 
Soon  as  he  can  find  utterance,  he  thus  begins :  '  The 
care  3^ou  take  for  my  sake,  best  of  fathers,  la}^  down 
for  my  sake,  I  beg,  and  suffer  me  to  pledge  my  Ufe  for 
my  honor.  My  hand,  too,  can  scatter  darts  and  fling 
steel  with  no  feeble  force  ;  my  blows,  too,  fetch  blood. 
He  will  not  have  his  goddess-mother  within  call,  to 
hide  her  craven  son  in  an  unmanly  cloud,  and  conceal 
herself  by  help  of  treacherous  shadows.' 
28 


434  THE  ^NEID. 

But  the  queen,  appalled  by  the  new  hazard  of  the 
combat,  was  all  in  tears,  clinging  to  her  fiery  son-in- 
law  with  the  convulsive  grasp  of  death :  '  Turnus,  by 
these  my  tears,  by  any  regard  3'ou  cherish  for  Amata  — 
3'Ou  are  now  our  only  hope,  our  only  solace  in  our  for- 
lorn old  age  —  the  honor  and  power  of  the  king  are  in 
your  hands ;  on  you,  its  one  pillar,  the  whole  house 
leans.  I  ask  but  this  —  forbear  to  cross  swords  with 
the  Teucrians.  "Whatever  chance  waits  on  you  in  this 
unhappy  combat,  waits  on  me,  too,  my  Turnus  ;  along 
with  you  I  shall  leave  the  hated  light,  nor  see  in  JEneas 
my  son-in-law  and  my  conqueror.' 

As  Lavinia  heard  her  mother's  voice,  her  glowing 
cheeks  were  bathed  in  tears ;  a  deep  blush  kindled  a 
fire,  and  shot  over  her  flushing  face.  As  when  a  man 
has  stained  Indian  ivory  with  blood-red  purple,  or  like 
a  bed  of  lilies  and  roses  mixed :  such  hues  were  seen 
on  the  maiden's  countenance.  He,  bewildered  with 
passion,  fixes  his  eyes  upon  her :  the  sight  makes  him 
burn  the  more  for  battle,  and  thus  he  addresses  Amata 
in  brief:  '  Let  me  not  have  tears  nor  aught  so  ominous, 
dear  mother,  as  my  escort  to  the  iron  battle  ;  Turnus  is 
not  free  to  postpone  the  call  of  death.  Go,  Idmon, 
and  bear  the  Phrygian  despot  a  message  that  will  like 
him  not :  Soon  as  the  goddess  of  to-morrow's  dawn 
shall  fire  the  sky  with  the  glow  of  her  chariot,  let  him 
not  spur  the  Teucrians  against  the  Rutulians  ;  let  Teu- 
crian  and  Rutulian  sheathe  their  swords,  while  we 
twain  with  our  own  lifeblood  decide  the  war.  Let  La- 
vinia's  hand  be  sought  and  won  in  yonder  field.' 

So  he  spoke,  and  rushed  back  within  doors  :  he  calls 
for  his  steeds,  and  joys  to  look  on  them  snorting  and 
neighing — the  steeds  which  Orithyia  gave  as  a  pres- 
ent to  Pilumnus,  to  surpass  the  snows  in  whiteness, 


BOOK  XIL  435 

the  winds  in  speed.  Round  them  stand  the  bustling 
charioteers,  patting  their  chests  with  hollow  palms  and 
combing  their  maned  necks.  Next  he  throws  round 
his  shoulders  his  hauberk,  stiff  with  scales  of  gold  and 
dazzling  orichalc,  and  adjusts  to  his  wear  the  sword, 
the  shield,  and  the  cones  of  the  crimson  crest  —  that 
sword  the  Fire-god's  own  hand  had  made  for  his  father 
Daunus,  and  tempered  it  glowing  in  the  Stygian  wave. 
Lastly,  the  spear  which  was  standing  in  the  palace- 
hall,  propped. by  a  mighty  column,  the  spoil  of  Aurun- 
can  Actor,  he  seizes  forcefully,  sturdy  as  it  is,  and 
shakes  till  it  quivers,  crying  aloud :  '  Now,  my  good 
spear,  that  hast  never  failed  my  call,  now  is  the  time ; 
once  wast  thou  swayed  by  giant  Actor,  now  by  Tur- 
nus :  grant  that  I  may  lay  low  the  emasculate  Phry- 
gian, strip  and  rend  his  hauberk  b}'  strength  of  hand, 
and  soil  in  the  dust  those  ringlets  curled  with  hot  iron 
and  moist  with  myrrh.'  So  he  rages,  fur3'-d riven : 
sparks  flash  from  the  furnace  of  his  countenance, 
lightnings  dart  from  his  fiery  eyes :  as  when  a  bull  in 
view  of  a  fight  raises  fearful  bellowing,  and  calls  up 
rage  into  his  horns  by  butting  against  a  tree's  -trunk, 
challenges  the  wind  with  his  blows,  and  spurns  the  fly- 
ing sand  in  prelude  for  the  fray. 

With  equal  fierceness  jEneas,  clad  in  his  mother's 
armor,  sharpens  valor's  edge,  and  lashes  his  heart  with 
wrath,  joying  that  proflfered  truce  should  end  the  war. 
Then  he  calms  his  comrades'  fear  and  the  grief  of 
lulus,  talking  of  destiny,  and  sends  envoys  with  an 
answer  to  the  Latian  king,  to  name  the  conditions  of 
peace. 

Scarce  had  the  next  morrow  begun  to  sprinkle  the 
mountain-tops  with  light,  at  the  time  when  the  sun's 
steeds  first  come  up  from  the  deep  and  breathe  flakes 


436  THE  JENEID. 

of  radiance  from  their  upturned  nostrils,  when  Rutu- 
lians  and  Teucrians  were  at  work,  measuring  out  lists 
for  combat  under  the  ramparts  of  the  mighty  town, 
with  hearths  in  the  midst,  and  altars  of  turf  for  their 
common  gods.  Others  were  carrying  fire  and  spring 
water,  begirt  with  aprons,  vervain  wreaths  on  their 
brows.  Forth  moves  the  Ausonian  army,  bands  with 
lifted  javelins  issuing  from  the  crowded  gates.  From 
3'onder  quarters  pours  the  Trojan  and  Tuscan  force, 
with  the  arms  of  their  several  countries,  harnessed  as 
if  summoned  by  the  War-god's  bloody  fray.  In  the 
midst  of  either  squadrons  the  generals  flash  along, 
glorious  in  gold  and  purple,  Mnestheus,  Assaracus' 
seed,  and  Asilas  the  brave,  and  Messapus,  tamer  of 
horses,  the  progeny  of  Neptune.  At  a  given  signal 
each  army  retreats  withip  its  confines ;  spears  are 
fixed  in  the  ground,  and  bucklers  rested  at  ease. 
Matrons  in  yearning  eagerness,  and  unarmed  masses, 
and  tottering  old  men,  fill  turret  and  roof,  or  stand  by 
the  lofty  portals. 

But  Juno,  from  the  top  of  the  mount  now  styled 
Alban  —  in  those  days  it  had  no  name,  nor  glory,  nor 
honor  —  was  looking  in  prospect  on  the  plain,  the  two 
armies,  Trojan  and  Laurentine,  and  the  Latian  town. 
At  once  she  addressed  Turnus'  sister,  a  goddess  her- 
self, who  presides  over  the  pool  and  the  brawling 
stream — such  dignity  Jove,  the  king  of  heaven,  sol- 
emnly made  hers  in  return  for  violated  maidenhood : 
'  Sweet  Nymph,  glory  of  the  rivers,  favorite  of  my 
heart,  you  know  how  I  have  preferred  you  to  all  Lati- 
um's  daughters  who  have  climbed  the  odious  bed  of  our 
great  Master  and  have  gladly  given  you  a  seat  in  the 
sky ;  and  now,  Juturna,  learn  from  me  your  sorrow,  for 
which  I  am  not  to  blame.     So  long  as  Fortune  seemed 


BOOK  Xir.  437 

favorable  and  Fate  allowed  Latium  to  prosper,  I  spread 
m^  shield  over  Turnus  and  these  your  walls  :  now  I  see 
the  youth  engaged  with  a  destiny  mightier  than  his 
own,  and  the  day  of  doom  and  the  power  of  the  enemy 
are  at  hand.  I  cannot  look  on  the  combat,  nor  on  the 
league  that  ushers  it  in.  If  you  have  the  nerve  to  dare 
aught  for  your  brother,  go  on ;  it  is  a  sister's  part : 
perhaps  the  down-trodden  have  a  better  lot  in  store.* 
Ere  she  had  well  ended,  Juturna's  tears  sprang  forth, 
and  thrice  and  again  her  hand  smote  on  her  lovel}' 
breast.  *  No  time  for  tears,'  cries  Saturn's  daughter : 
'  quick,  and  if  any  way  there  be,  snatch  your  brother 
from  death :  or  at  least  revive  the  war,  and  mar  the 
treaty  while  yet  on  their  lips.  Remember,  I  warrant  the 
attempt.'  With  such  advice  she  left  her  wavering  in 
purpose  and  staggering  under  the  cruel  blow. 

Meantime  the  monarchs  appear,  the  stately  form  of 
the  Latian  king  riding  in  a  four-horse  car,  his  brows 
gleaming  with  a  circle  of  twelve  gilded  rays,  the  cog- 
nizance of  the  Sun  his  grandsire  :  Turnus  is  drawn  by 
a  snow-white  pair,  two  spears  with  broad  iron  points 
quivering  in  his  hands.  Then  comes  father  uEneas, 
the  parent  stock  of  the  Roman  tree,  blazing  with  his 
starr}^  shield  and  celestial  armor,  and  at  his  side  Asca- 
nius,  the  second  hope  of  might}'  Rome,  both  issuing 
from  their  camp :  while  a  priest  in  stainless  robe  has 
brought  the  young  of  a  bristly  boar  and  an  undipped 
sheep  of  two  years  old,  and  placed  the  victims  by  the 
blazing  altar.  They,  turning  their  eyes  to  the  rising 
sun,  offer  the  salted  barley,  score  with  the  steel  the 
brows  of  the  cattle,  and  make  libations  from  their 
chargers.  Then  thus  prays  good  jJEneas,  his  sword 
drawn  in  his  hand  :  '  Let  the  Sun  above  and  the  Earth 
beneath  witness  my  invocation,  this  very  Earth  for 


438  THE  jENEID. 

which  I  have  had  the  hear*  to  endure  so  much,  and  the 
almighty  Sire,  and  thou,  his  goddess-bride,  Saturn's 
daughter,  now  —  may  I  hope  it?  —  now  at  last  made 
gracious:  thou,  too,  glorious  Mars,  whose  princely 
nod  controls  every  battle :  Springs  also  and  Rivers  I 
invoke,  all  the  majesty  of  the  sky,  all  the  deities  of  the 
purple  deep :  if  chance  award  the  victory  to  Turnus 
the  Ausonian,  reason  claims  that  the  vanquished  shall 
retire  to  Evander's  town :  lulus  shall  quit  the  land, 
nor  shall  -Eneas'  children  in  after  days  draw  the  sword 
again,  or  threaten  this  realm  with  war.  But  should 
conquest  vouchsafe  to  us  the  smiles  of  the  battle-field, 
as  I  rather  deem,  and  pray  that  Heaven  will  rather 
grant,  I  will  not  bid  the  Italians  be  subject  to  Troy, 
nor  ask  I  the  crown  for  myself:  no,  let  the  two  great 
nations,  one  unconquered  as  the  other,  join  on  equal 
terms  in  an  everlasting  federation.  The  gods  and  their 
ritual  shall  be  my  gift :  let  my  good  father-in-law  still 
wield  the  sword  and  the  lawful  rights  of  empire :  the 
Teucrians  shall  raise  me  a  city,  and  Lavinia  shall  give 
it  her  name.'  Thus  first  -^neas :  the  Latian  king 
follows,  with  eyes  Hfted  to  heaven,  and  right  hand 
stretched  to  the  stars :  '  I  swear  as  you  swore,  ^ne- 
as,  by  Land  and  Ocean  and  Lights  above,  Latona's 
twofold  offspring,  and  two-faced  Janus,  the  potency 
of  the  gods  below  and  the  shrine  of  relentless  Pluto : 
and  let  the  Father  too  give  ear,  who  ratifies  covenants 
with  thunder.  My  hand  is  on  the  altars  ;  I  adjure  the 
fires  and  powers  that  part  us :  so  far  as  rests  with 
Italy,  no  length  of  time  shall  break  this  bond  of 
friendship,  let  things  issue  as  they  may :  no  violence 
shall  make  me  swerve  in  will,  not  though  deluge  and 
chaos  come  again,  ruining  the  earth  into  the  water 
and  crushing  down  heaven  into  Tartarus:  even  as  this 


BOOK  XII.  439 

scepter'  —  for  a  scepter  chanced  to  be  in  his  hand  — 
*  shall  never  more  burgeon  with  light  foliage  into 
branch  or  shade,  now  that  once  cut  down  in  the  woods 
it  is  orphaned  of  that  which  gave  it  life,  and  has  re- 
signed to  the  ax  its  le^ives  and  its  sprays  —  once  a 
tree,  now  the  workman's  hand  has  cased  it  with  seem- 
ly brass,  and  given  it  to  be  wielded  by  Latium's  eld- 
ers/ With  words  like  these  were  they  ratifjing  the 
treaty,  all  the  nobles  looking  on.  Then,  as  the  rite 
ordains,  they  cut  the  throats  of  the  hallow^  victims 
into  the  fire,  flay  th6  yet  breathing  flesh,  and  pile  the 
altars  with  laden  chargers. 

But  the  Rutulians  have  long  been  thinking  the 
combat  unequal :  their  bosoms  are  swayed  by  rival 
emotions,  all  the  more,  the  nearer  they  observe  the  ill- 
matched  champions.  Turnus  aids  the  feeling  by  the 
quietness  of  his  step  and  the  downcast  reverential 
look  which  he  turns  on  the  altar,  his  wan  cheeks,  and 
the  pallor  of  his  youthful  frame.  Soon  as  his  sister 
Juturna  heard  such  whispers  spreading,  and  saw  the 
hearts  of  the  multitude  wavering  to  and  fro,  she 
plunges  among  the  ranks,  taking  the  form  of  Gamers, 
great  in  ancestral  dignit}^,  great  in  the  name  of  his 
father's  worth,  and  himself  a  valiant  warrior  —  plunges 
among  the  ranks,  knowing  well  what  she  would  have, 
and  scatters  her  sayings  abroad  in  words  like  these : 
'  Blush  ye  not,  Rutulians,  with  souls  such  as  yours,  to 
make  one  a  sacrifice  for  all  ?  are  we  not  equal  to  our 
foes  in  strength  or  in  numbers  ?  See,  here  is  their  whole 
army,  Trojan  and  Arcadian,  a}',  and  that  fated  band 
of  Etruria,  which  seeks  Turnus'  life.  Though  but 
half  of  us  should  engage,  each  would  scarce  have  an 
enemy  to  fight  with.  He,jno  doubt,  will  rise  on  the 
wings  of  fame  to  the  gods  for  whose  altars  he  gives 


440  THE  jENEID. 

himself  to  die,  and  will  live  in  the  mouths  of  men : 
we,  stripped  of  our  countr3',  shall  be  the  slaves  of 
haughty  masters,  we,  I  sa}^,  now  seated  passivel}^  on 
the  ground.'  By  such  words  the  flame  is  fanned  more 
and  more  in  those  5'oung  warrior  hearts,  and  murmurs 
run  from  rank  to  rank :  not  Rutulian  alone,  but  Lau- 
rentian  and  Latian  are  changed  men.  They  who  a 
short  while  since  were  hoping  for  their  own  repose 
and  their  state's  prosperity,  now  burn  for  arms,  would 
have  the  ^reaty  undone,  and  pity  Turnus'  cruel  fate. 
And  now  Juturna  gives  them  onfe  thing  more,  even  a 
sign  from  heaven,  no  spell  so  potent  to  work  on  Italian 
minds  and  make  them  dupes  of  the  marvel.  Flying 
through  the  rudd}'  sky,  Jove's  golden  bird  was  chasing 
the  river  fowl,  a  winged  noisy  multitude,  when  sudden- 
ly swooping  on  the  water  he  carries  off  in  his  tyrant 
claws  a  stately  swan.  The  Italians  are  all  attention, 
when  lo !  the  whole  mass  of  birds  face  about  with 
a  scream,  marvelous  to  see,  their  wings  darkening  the 
air,  and  in  dense  cloud  press  on  their  enemy,  till  over- 
borne by  sheer  weight  he  gives  way,  drops  the  booty 
from  his  talons  into  the  river,  flying  aloft,  and  van- 
ishes in  the  distant  sky.  Oh,  then  the  Rutulians  wel- 
come the  omen  with  a  shout  and  spread  their  hands 
on  high ;  and  first  of  all  cries  the  augur  Tolumnius. 
'  Here,  here  is  the  thing  I  have  prayed  for  so  often. 
I  embrace  it,  I  own  the  hand  of  Heaven.  Follow  me 
—  3'es,  me  —  and  seize  your  weapons,  m}^  poor  country- 
men, whom  the  felon  stranger  is  scaring  with  battle,  as 
if  ye  were  feeble  birds,  and  ravaging  your  coasts.  He 
too  will  turn  to  flight  and  sail  far  away  on  the  deep. 
Close  your  ranks  with  one  accord,  and  rally  round  the 
prince  of  whom  the  battle,  robs  you.'  He  spoke,  and 
running  forward  hurls  his  dart  full  at  the  enemy :  the 


BOOK  XII.  441 

hurtling  cornel  sounds,  and  cuts  the  air  on  no  doubt- 
ful errand.  A  deafening  shout  follows  on  the  act,  the 
ranks  are  confused,  and  men's  hearts  stirred  with  mad 
bewilderment.  On  flew  the  spear,  just  where  nine 
goodl}^  brethren  chanced  to  stand  facing  it,  all  born 
of  one  true  Tuscan  mother  to  Gylippus  the  Arcadian. 
One  of  these  just  at  the  waist  where  the  quilted  belt 
chafes  against  the  bell}'  and  the  buckle  presses  the 
sides  —  a  youth  of  goodly  form  and  clad  in  refulgent 
armor — it  strikes  through  the  ribs  and  lays  him  grovel- 
ing on  the  yellow  sand.  But  his  brothers,  a  gallant 
company  and  stung  by  grief,  draw  their  swords  or 
seize  their  javelins,  and  charge  in  headlong  fury.  To 
meet  them  rush  the  Laurentian  columns :  while  from 
their  side  surge  forth  in  a  flo5d  Trojans  and  Ag^dlans 
and  Arcadians  with  inlaid  harness.  All  are  possessed 
by  one  passion,  to  try  the  issue  with  the  steel.  The 
altars  are  stripped  bare  :  through  the  whole  sk}-  drives 
a  flickering  storm  of  weapons  and  an  iron  sleet  comes 
thick :  bowls  and  hearths  are  carried  awaj- .  King 
Latinus  flies,  bearing  away  his  gods  in  discomfiture, 
the  truce  unratified.  Others  rein  the  chariot,  or  vault 
on  horseback,  with  swords  ready  drawn. 

Messapus,  all  on  fire  to  annul  the  treaty,  spurs  his 
horse  full  on  the  Tuscan  Aulestes,  a  king  and  wearing 
kingl}'  cognizance :  he  draws  quickly  back,  and  gets 
entangled  in  piteous  sort  with  the  altars  that  meet 
him  behind,  falling  on  them  head  and  shoulders.  Up 
flashes  Messapus  spear  in  hand,  and  towering  on  horse- 
back brings  down  on  him  the  massy  beam  in  the  midst 
of  his  pra3'ers,  and  delivers  himself  thus :  *  He  is 
sped:  here  is  a  better  victim  for  the  might}^  gods.* 
The  Italians  cluster  round,  and  strip  the  j'et  warm 
body.     As  Ebusus  comes  up  and  aims  a  blow,  Cory- 


442  THE  ^NEID. 

naeus  meets  him  with  a  brand  half-burnt  from  the 
altar  and  dashes  the  fire  in  his  face :  his  long  beard 
burst  into  a  blaze  and  made  a  smell  of  burning  hair : 
the  enemy  presses  on,  grasps  in  his  left  hand  the  locks 
of  the  wildered  man  and  with  the  impact  of  his  knee 
pins  him  to  earth ;  then  buries  the  stark  falchion  in 
his  side.  Podalirius  gives  chase  to  Alsus  the  shepherd 
as  he  rushed  in  the  first  rank  through  a  shower  of 
darts,  and  hangs  over  him  with  naked  sword :  he 
swinging  back  his  ax,  splits  full  in  front  the  foe's 
forehead  and  chin,  and  splashes  his  arms  right  and 
left  with  the  blood.  The  heavy  rest  of  iron  slumber 
settles  down  on  the  dying  eyes,  and  their  beams  are 
curtained  in  everlasting  night. 

But  good  ^neas,  his  Read  bare,  was  stretching  forth 
his  unarmed  hand  and  shouting  to  his  men  :  '  Whither 
are  you  driving  ?  wha^  is  this  sudden  outburst  of  strife  ? 
Oh,  curb  your  passions !  the  truce  is  stricken,  and  all 
the  terms  arranged  :  none  but  I  has  a  right  to  engage  : 
give  way  to  me  and  have  done  with  alarm :  my  sword 
shall  ratify  the  treaty  :  this  sacrifice  has  put  Turnus  in 
my  power.'  While  he  is  crying  thus  and  uttering 
words  like  these,  lo !  full  at  the  chief  flies  a  hurtling 
arrow,  none  knew  by  what  hand  launched,  by  what 
wind  wafted,  who  graced  the  Rutulians  so  highly, 
chance  or  deit}^ :  the  glory  of  the  proud  achievement 
was  lost,  nor  was  any  known  to  boast  of  having 
wounded  jEneas. 

Soon  as  Turnus  sees  JEneas  retiring  from  the  battle, 
and  the  Trojan  leaders  in  confusion,  he  glows  with 
swift  access  of  hope,  calls  for  horses  and  armor,  bounds 
like  a  conqueror  into  the  chariot,  and  takes  the  reins  in 
hand.  Many  an  heroic  frame  he  slaughters  as  he  whirls 
along,  many  he  tumbles   and  leaves  to  live  or  die, 


BOOK  XII.  443 

crushes  whole  ranks  by  the  onset  of  his  car,  or  plucks 
forth  spears  and  hurls  them  at  the  fliers.  Just  as 
storming  along  by  Hebrus'  icy  flood  gore-stained  Mars 
smites  on  his  shield,  and  stirring  battle  lets  loose  his 
fiery  steeds :  they  fly  over  the  plains  faster  than  winds 
southern  or  western:  Thrace  groans  to  her  extremity 
under  the  beat  of  their  hoofs :  around  him  circle  the 
frowns  of  black-visaged  Terror,  and  the  powers  of  Wrath 
and  Treachery,  liege  followers  of  the  god  ;  with  like 
eagerness  through  the  thickest  of  the  battle  Turnus 
whirls  his  straining  horses,  trampling  in  piteous  sort 
on  the  slaughtered  foe :  the  flying  hoof  spirts  gory 
dew,  and  blood  and  sand  are  kneaded  in  a  mass. 
Sthenelus  he  has  slain  already,  and  Thamyris  and 
Pholus,  these  hand  to  hand,  that  from  a  distance:  a 
distant  death,  too,  has  found  the  Imbrasidae,  Glau- 
cus  and  Lades,  trained  in  Lycia  by  Imbrasus  their 
sire,  and  by  him  harnessed  alike,  warriors  who  could 
stand  and  fight  or  outride  the  winds.  In  another 
part  of  the  field  Eumedes  is  riding  through  the  fra)', 
the  gallant  son  of  ancient  Dolon,  with  the  name  of  his 
grandsire,  the  heart  and  hand  of  his  sire,  wbo  of  old, 
offering  to  spy  out  the  Danaan  camp,  dared  to  ask 
Achilles'  chariot  as  his  guerdon ;  far  other  guerdon 
was  it  with  which  Diomed  requited  his  daring,  and 
his  hopes  are  set  on  Achilles*  steeds  no  longer.  Mark- 
ing him  at  distance  along  the  plain,  Turnus  first  sends 
after  him  a  flying  spear  through  the  intervening  space, 
then  stops  the  car  and  dismounts,  comes  on  the  wretch 
gasping  and  laid  low,  and  setting  his  foot  on  his  neck, 
wrests  the  sword  from  his  hand,  bathes  it  flashing 
deep  in  his  throat,  and  thus  accompanies  the  blow : 
'  Lie  there,  Trojan,  and  measure  the  Hesperian  soil 
you  came  to  invade :  such  are  their  guerdons  who  draw 


444  THE  jENEID. 

their  swords  on  me  ;  so  build  they  up  their  city.'  Then 
with  a  spear- throw  he  sends  Asbutes  to  join  the  dead. 
Chloreus  and  Sybaris  and  Dares  and  Thersilochus, 
Thymoetes  too,  thrown  off  by  a  restive  horse.  As  when 
the  blast  of  Thracian  Boreas  roars  on  the  deep  JEgean 
and  drives  the  billows  to  the  shore,  wherever  the  winds 
push  on,  the  clouds  scuny  over  the  sky,  so  when  Tur- 
nus  cleaves  his  path,  the  ranks  give  way,  the  armies 
turn  in  rout ;  the  motion  bears  him  along,  and  the  gale 
which  blows  on  the  car  tosses  his  flickering  crest. 
Phegeus,  indignant  at  his  overweening  onset,  meets  the 
car  and  grasping  the  bridle  wrenches  aside  the  foaming 
jaws  of  the  impetuous  steeds.  While  he  is  dragged 
along  clinging  to  the  yoke,  the  broad  spear-head  reaches 
his  unguarded  breast,  cleaves  the  two-plated  corselet, 
and  tastes  the  surface  of  the  flesh.  Yet  he,  his  shield 
before  him,  kept  fronting  and  threatening  the  foe,  and 
protecting  himself  with  his  drawn  sword,  when  the 
wheel  careering  onward  strikes  and  flings  him  on  the 
ground,  and  Turnus  with  a  sweep  of  his  blade  between 
the  bottom  of  the  helmet  and  the  breastplate's  topmost 
rim  lias  lopped  the  head  and  left  the  trunk  to  welter. 

While  Turnus  thus  is  dealing  havoc  over  the  field, 
Mnestheus,  true  Achates,  and  Ascanius  have  helped 
JEneas  to  the  camp,  all  bleeding,  and  staying  his  halt- 
ing steps  by  the  help  of  a  spear.  There  he  frets  and 
struggles  to  pull  out  the  broken  shaft,  and  calls  for  help 
the  readiest  way,  bidding  them  enlarge  the  wound  with 
a  broad  sword,  cut  the  weapon's  lodgment  to  the  bot- 
tom, and  send  him  to  combat  again.  And  now  at  his 
side  was  lapis,  son  of  lasus,  dearest  of  mankind  to 
Phoebus,  he  to  whom  the  god  in  his  passionate  fondness 
would  fain  have  given  his  own  function,  his  own  hand's 
cunning,  the  augur's  insight,  the  lyre,  the  weapons  of 


BOOK  XIL  445 

archer}^ ;  but  he,  wishing  to  lengthen  out  the  span  of  his 
bed-rid  sire,  chose  rather  to  know  the  \irtueof  simj)les 
and  the  laws  of  the  healing  art,  and  to  practice  in  si- 
lence an  unambitious  craft.  There  stood  ^neas,  fret- 
ting impatiently,  propped  on  his  massy  spear,  with  a 
warrior  concourse  about  him,  and  lulus  all  in  tears,  yet 
himself  unmoved  by  their  sorrow.  The  aged  leech,  his 
garments  swathed  round  him  in  Paeon's  fashion,  is  ply- 
ing busily  the  heahng  hand  and  Phoebus'  sovereign 
remedies  all  to  no  end,  all  to  no  end  pulling  at  the  dart 
and  griping  the  steel  with  the  pincer.  No  Fortune 
guides  the  course  of  skill,  no  patron  Phoebus  lends  his 
aid ;  and  meanwhile  the  fierce  alarms  of  the  field  grow 
louder  and  louder,  and  the  mischief  is  nearer  at  hand. 
They  see  dust-clouds  propping  the  sky,  the  horsemen 
gallop  in,  darts  fall  thick  in  the  midst  of  the  camp,  and 
heavenward  mounts  the  cruel  din  of  warriors  battling 
or  falling  in  the  stern  affray  :  —  when,  lo  !  Venus,  struck 
to  the  heart  by  her  son's  undeserved  suffering,  with  a 
mother's  care  plucks  dittany  from  Cretan  Ida,  a  plant 
with  downy  leaves  and  a  purple  flower :  wild  goats  know 
that  simple  well,  if  the  fljing  arrow  should  lodge  in 
their  flesh.  Veiled  by  a  dim  cloud,  the  goddess  brings 
it  down  ;  with  it  she  impregnates  the  spring  water 
gleaming  in  the  caldron,  imparting  unseen  powers,  and 
sprinkles  ambrosia's  healthful  juice  and  fragrant  pana- 
cea. The  old  man  rinsed  the  wound  with  the  water  so 
transformed,  all  unwitting,  and  in  a  moment  all  pain 
was  fled  from  the  frame,  and  the  blood  was  stanched  in 
the  wound.  The  arrow  obeys  the  hand,  and  falls  out 
unforced,  and  strength  is  restored  as  before.  '  Quick  ! 
give  the  warrior  his  arms  !  why  so  tard}'  ? '  cries  lapis, 
himself  the  first  to  stir  up  the  martial  spirit.  '  No 
human  aid  has  done  this,  no  power  of  leech-craft ;  it  is 


446  THE  ^NEID. 

not  my  hand,  ^neas,  that  restores  you ;  a  mightier 
power  than  man's  is  at  work,  sending  you  back  to 
mightier  deeds/  The  chief,  greedy  for  the  fight,  has 
cased  his  legs  in  gold,  chafing  at  delay  and  brandish- 
ing his  spear.  Soon  as  the  shield  is  fitted  to  his  side, 
the  cuirass  to  his  back,  he  clasps  Ascanius  to  his  mailed 
breast,  and  kissing  his  lips  through  the  helmet  addresses 
him  thus  :  '  Learn  valor  from  me,  my  son,  and  genuine 
hardihood,  success  from  others.  To-day  it  is  my  hand 
that  shall  shield  you  in  war  and  lead  you  through  the 
walks  of  honor ;  be  it  your  care,  when  your  age  has 
ripened  into  manhood,  to  bear  the  past  in  mind,  seek 
patterns  among  those  of  your  own  blood,  and  be  stirred 
to  action  by  ^neas  your  sire  and  Hector  your  uncle.' 

So  having  said,  he  passed  towering  through  the  gate, 
a  huge  spear  quivering  in  his  hand  :  Antheus  and  Mnes- 
theus  close  their  ranks  and  rush  forth,  and  the  whole 
multitude  streams  from  the  empty  camp.  The  field  is 
clouded  by  blinding  dust,  and  earth  throbs  and  shud- 
ders with  the  tramp  of  feet.  Turnus  saw  them  coming 
towards  him  from  their  battlements,  the  Ausonians  saw, 
and  a  cold  shudder  ran  through  their  vitals  :  first  before 
all  the  Latians  Juturna  heard  and  knew  the  sound  and 
shrank  back  in  terror.  As  a  storm-cloud  bursting 
through  the  sky  sweeps  down  to  earth  along  the  main  : 
hapless  husbandmen  know  it  ere  it  comes,  and  shudder 
at  heart ;  3'es,  it  will  bring  havoc  to  their  trees,  devas- 
tation to  their  crops,  will  lay  all  low  far  and  wide  ;  the 
winds  fly  before  it  and  waft  the  sound  to  the  shore : 
with  as  strong  a  rush  the  Rhoeteian  chief  sweeps  his 
armj^  full  on  the  foe ;  they  close  in  firm  masses  and 
form  severally  at  his  side.  Thymbrseus'  sword  cuts 
down  mighty  Osiris,  Mnestheus  slays  Archetius,  Achates 
Epulo,  and  G^^as  Ufens  ;  falls  too  the  augur  Tolumnius, 


BOOK  XIT,  U7 

the  first  to  fling  his  javelin  at  the  enemy.  The  din 
mounts  to  the  sky,  and  the  Rutulians  routed  in  turn  fly 
through  the  plains  in  a  whirlwind  of  dust.  The  hero 
himself  neither  stoops  to  slaughter  the  flying  nor  en- 
counter such  as  would  fain  meet  him  foot  to  foot, 
weapon  in  hand:  Turnus  alone  he  tracks  winding 
through  the  thick  darkness,  him  alone  he  challenges  to 
combat.  The  terror  struck  Juturna's  manly  mind  :  she 
plucks  from  his  seat  Metiscus,  Turnus'  charioteer,  as 
he  drives  the  horses,  and  leaves  him  fallen  at  distance 
behind  the  car :  herself  takes  his  place  and  handles  the 
flowing  rein,  assuming  all  that  Metiscus  had,  voice  and 
person  and  armor.  Like  a  black  swallow  that  flies 
through  the  house  of  some  wealthy  man  and  traverses 
the  lofty  hall,  in  quest  of  scraps  of  food  for  her  twitter- 
ing nestlings  ;  now  she  is  heard  in  the  empt}-  cloisters, 
now  about  the  water-tanks  ;  so  drives  Juturna  through 
the  thick  of  the  foe,  and  flies  on  rapid  wheel  from  spot 
to  spot,  now  here,  now  there  she  gives  a  glimpse  of  her 
victorious  brother,  yet  never  lets  him  stop  and  fight, 
but  whirls  far  awa}'  in  the  distance,  ^neas  for  his 
part  winds  through  sinuous  paths  in  hope  to  meet  him, 
tracks  his  steps,  and  shouts  to  him  aloud  across  the 
weltering  ranks.  Oft  as  he  spies  out  the  foe  and  tries 
by  running  to  match  the  horses'  winged  speed,  each 
time  Juturna  wheels  the  car  aside.  .  What  can  he  do  ? 
he  tosses  in  aimless  ebb  and  flow,  thoughts  distracting 
his  mind  this  way  and  that :  —  when  lo !  Messapus, 
with  sudden  movement,  happening  to  carry  two  limber 
spear-shafts  tipped  with  steel,  levels  one  at  him  and 
flings  it  true  to  its  mark,  ^neas  stopped  and  gathered 
his  arms  about  him,  sinking  on  his  knee  ;  3'et  the  fierce 
spear  took  the  top  of  the  helmet  and  struck  the  crest 
from  the  cone.     Then  at  last  his  wrath  mounts  high ; 


448  THE  ^NEID. 

and  under  the  duress  of  treacher}^  as  he  sees  the 
steeds  and  chariot  whirling  away  from  him,  after  many 
an  appeal  to  Jove  and  the  altars  of  the  violated  league, 
he  falls  on  the  ranks  before  him,  and  fanned  to  dread- 
ful vengeance  by  the  War-god's  breath,  lets  loose  a 
carnage  cruel  and  unsparing,  and  flings  the  reins  on 
the  neck  of  his  passion. 

And  now  what  god  will  tell  me  all  those  horrors  and 
relate  for  me  in  verse  the  several  scenes  of  slaughter, 
the  deaths  of  the  leaders  whom  Turnus  here,  the  Tro- 
jan hero  there,  is  chasing  over  the  plain?  Was  it  thy 
will,  great  Jove,  that  nations  destined  in  time  to  come 
to  everlasting  amity,  should  first  clash  in  such  dread 
turmoil  ?  ^neas  confronted  by  Rutulian  Sucro  (that 
combat  first  brought  the  Trojan  onset  to  a  stand)  after 
brief  dela}'  catches  him  on  the  side  and  drives  his 
stubborn  sword  death's  nearest  way  through  the  ribs 
that  fence  the  bosom.  Turnus  in  foot-encounter  slays 
Amycus,  whose  horse  had  thrown  him,  and  his  brother 
Diores,  striking  one  with  the  spear  ere  he  came  up,  the 
other  with  the  sword-blade,  lops  the  heads  of  both, 
hangs  them  from  his  car,  and  carries  them  dripping 
with  blood.  That  sends  down  Talon  to  death  and 
Tanais  and  brave  Cethegus,  those  at  one  onslaught, 
and  hapless  Onytes,  of  the  house  of  Echion,  brought 
forth  by  Peridia  :  that  kills  the  brethren  who  came  from 
Apollo's  land  of  Lycia,  and  young  Mencetes  the  Arca- 
dian, who  shrunk  from  war  in  vain ;  he  plied  his  craft 
and  lived  in  poverty  by  the  fishy  waters  of  Lerna,  a 
stranger  to  the  halls  of  the  great ;  and  his  father  tilled 
land  for  hire.  Like  two  fires  launched  from  different 
quarters  on  a  dry  forest  with  bushes  of  crackling  bay, 
or  as  when  two  foaming  rivers  pouring  from  lofty 
heights  crash  along  and  run  towards  the  ocean,  each 


BOOK  XIL  449 

ploughing  his  own  wild  channel:  with  no  less  fuiy 
rush  through  the  fight  JEneas  and  Turnus  both :  now, 
now  the  wrath  is  boiling  within  them :  their  uncon- 
quered  bosoms  swell  to  bursting:  they  throw  their 
whole  force  on  the  wounds  the}^  deal.  This  with  the 
whirl  and  the  blow  of  a  mighty  rock  dashes  Murranus 
headlong  from  his  car  to  the  ground,  Murranus  who 
had  ever  on  his  tongue  the  ancient  names  of  sires  and 
grandsires  and  a  lineage  stretching  through  the  series 
of  Latium's  kings  :  the  wheels  throw  forward  the  fallen 
man  under  the  reins  and  yoke,  and  he  is  crushed  by 
the  quick  hoof-beat  of  the  steeds  that  mind  not  their 
lord.  That  meets  Hyllus  as  he  rushed  on  in  vehement 
fury,  and  hurls  a  javelin  at  his  gold-bound  brows  :  the 
spear  pierced  the  helmet  and  stood  fixed  in  the  brain. 
Nor  did  your  prowess,  Creteus,  bravest  of  Greeks, 
deliver  you  from  Turnus,  nor  did  the  gods  Cupencus 
worshiped  shield  him  from  the  onset  of  -^neas :  his 
bosom  met  the  steel,  and  the  check  of  the  brazen 
buckler  stood  the  wretch  in  small  stead.  You,  too, 
great  ^olus,  the  Laurentian  plains  looked  on  in  death, 
spreading  your  frame  abroad  over  their  surface  :  fallen 
are  you,  whom  the  Argive  bands  could  never  overthrow, 
nor  Achilles  the  destro^-er  of  Priam's  realm  :  here  was 
your  fatal  goal :  a  princely  home  under  Ida's  shade  :  at 
Lyrnesus  a  princely  hope,  in  Laurentian  soil  a  sepul- 
cher.  The  two  armies  are  in  hot  conflict :  all  the  La- 
tians,  all  the  sons  of  Dardanus,  Mnestheus,  and  keen 
Serestus,  and  Messapus  tamer  of  the  steed,  and  brave 
Asilas,  the  Tuscan  band,  and  Evander's  Arcad  cavalry, 
each  man  for  himself  straining  every  nerve :  no  stint, 
no  stay  ;  they  strive  with  giant  tension. 

And   now  ^neas   had  a  thought  inspired  by  his 
beauteous  mother,  to  march. to  the  walls,  throw  his 
29 


450  THE  jENEID. 

force  rapidly  on  the  town,  and  stun  the  Latians  with  a 
sudden  blow.  Tracking  Turnus  through  the  ranks  he 
swept  his  ej^es  round  and  round,  and  beholds  the  city 
enjo3ing  respite  from  all  that  furious  war,  and  lying  in 
unchallenged  repose.  At  once  his  mind  is  fired  with 
the  vision  of  a  grander  battle  :  Mnestheus  he  summons 
and  Sergestus  and  brave  Serestus,  the  first  in  com- 
mand, and  mounts  an  eminence  round  which  the  rest 
of  the  Teucrian  army  gathers  in  close  ranks,  not  laying 
shield  or  dart  aside.  Standing  on  the  tall  mound,  he 
thus  bespeaks  them :  '  Let  nothing  stay  my  orders ; 
the  hand  of  Jove  is  here  ;  nor  let  any  move  slower  be- 
cause the  enterprise  is  sudden.  The  town,  the  cause 
of  the  war,  the  royal  home  of  the  Latian  king,  unless 
they  submit  the  yoke  and  confess  themselves  A'an- 
quished,  I  will  overthrow  this  day,  and  lay  its  smoking 
turrets  level  with  the  ground.  What?  am  I  to  wait 
till  Turnus  choose  to  bide  the  combat,  and  once  con- 
quered, meet  me  a  second  time?  This,  my  men,  is  the 
well-spring,  this  the  head  and  front  of  the  monstrous 
war.  Bring  torches  with  speed,  and  reclaim  the  treaty 
fire  in  hand.'  He  said,  and  all  with  emulous  spirit  of 
union  close  their  ranks  and  stream  to  the  walls  in  com- 
pact mass.  Scaling-ladders  and  brands  are  produced 
suddenly  and  in  a  moment.  Some  run  to  the  several 
gates  and  slay  those  stationed  there:  some  hurl  the 
steel  and  overshadow  the  sky  with  javehns.  ^neas 
himself  among  the  foremost  hfts  up  his  hand  under  the 
city  wall,  loudly  upbraids  the  king,  and  calls  the  gods 
to  witness  that  he  is  once  more  forced  into  battle,  the 
Italians  twice  his  foes,  the  second  treaty  broken  like 
the  first.  Strife  arises  among  the  wildered  citizens: 
some  are  for  throwing  open  the  town  and  unbarring  the 
gates  to  the  Dardans :  nay,  they  even  drag  the  monarch 


BOOK  XII.  451 

to  the  ramparts :  others  draw  the  sword  and  prepare  to 
guard  the  walls :  as  when  a  countryman  has  tracked 
out  bees  concealed  in  a  cavernous  rock  and  filled  their 
hiding-place  with  pungent  smoke,  they  in  alarm  for  the 
common  wealth  flit  about  their  waxen  realm  and  stir 
themselves  to  wrath  by  vehement  buzzing :  the  murkj- 
smell  winds  from  chamber  to  chamber :  a  dull  blind  noise 
fills  the  cavern :  vapors  ascend  into  the  ^oid  of  air. 

Yet  another  stroke  fell  on  Latium's  wearied  sons, 
shaking  with  its  agony  the  city  to  her  foundations. 
When  the  queen  from  her  palace  saw  the  enem}-  draw 
near,  the  walls  assailed,  flames  flying  roofward,  the 
Rutulian  army,  the  soldiers  of  Turnus  nowhere  in 
sight,  she  deemed,  poor  wretch,  her  warrior  slain  in  the 
combat,  and  maddened  with  the  access  of  grief,  cries 
aloud  that  she  alone  is  the  guilty  cause,  the  fountain- 
head  of  all  this  evil ;  and  flinging  out  wild  words  in  the 
fury  of  her  frenzied  anguish,  rends  with  desperate  hand 
her  purple  raiment,  and  fastens  from  a  loft}^  beam  the 
noose  of  hideous  death.  Soon  as  Latium's  wretched 
dames  knew  the  blow  that  had  fallen,  her  daughter 
Lavinia  is  first  to  rend  yellow  hair  and  roseate  cheek, 
and  the  rest  about  her  ran  as  wildly :  the  palace  re- 
echoes their  wail.  The  miserable  story  spreads  through 
the  town :  every  heart  sinks :  there  goes  the  old  king 
with  gannents  rent,  all  confounded  by  his  consort's 
death  and  his  city's  ruin :  he  soils  his  hoary  locks  with 
showers  of  unseemly  dust,  and  oft  and  oft  upbraids 
himself  that  he  embraced  not  sooner  ^neas  the  Dar- 
dan  nor  took  him  for  son-in-law  of  his  own  free  will. 

Turnus,  meantime,  is  plying  the  war  far  away  on  the 
plain,  following  here  and  there  a  straggler  with  abated 
zeal,  himself  and  his  steeds  alike  less  buoyant.  The 
air  wafted  to  him  the  confused  din,  inspiring  unknown 


452  THE  ^NEID. 

terror,  and  on  his  quickened  ears  smote  the  sound 
of  the  city's  turmoil  and  the  noise  not  of  joy.  '  Alas  ! 
what  is  this  mighty  agony  that  shakes  the  walls  ?  what 
these  loud  shouts  pouring  from  this  quarter  and  that  ? ' 
So  he  cries,  and  drawing  his  bridle  halts  bewildered. 
His  sister,  just  as  she  stood  in  guise  of  Metiscus  the 
driver,  guiding  car,  horse,  and  reins,  thus  meets  his 
question :  '  Proceed  we  still,  Turnus,  to  chase  the 
Trojans,  where  victory's  dawn  shows  us  the  way : 
others  there  are  whose  hands  can  guard  the  cit^' : 
-iEneas  bears  down  on  the  Italians  and  stirs  up  the 
battle :  let  us  send  havoc  as  cruel  among  his  Teu- 
crians :  so  shall  your  slain  be  as  many  and  your  mar- 
tial fame  as  high.'  Turnus  answered  :  '  Sister,  I  both 
knew  3"0u  long  since,  when  at  first  3'ou  artfully  dis- 
turbed the  truce  and  flung  yourself  into  our  quarrel, 
and  now  you  vainly  hide  the  goddess  from  m}^  eyes. 
But  tell  me  by  whose  will  you  are  sent  from  Olympus 
to  cope  with  toils  like  this  ?  Is  it  that  you  ma}^  look 
on  the  cruel  end  of  y^our  hapless  brother  ?  For  what 
can  I  do?  what  chance  is  there  left  to  give  me  hope 
of  safety?  With  my  own  eyes  I  saw  Murranus  die, 
his  giant  frame  laid  low  by  a  giant  wound :  he  called 
me  by  name,  he,  than  whom  I  had  no  dearer  friend. 
Dead,  too,  is  ill-starred  Ufens,  all  because  he  would 
not  see  me  disgraced :  his  body  and  his  arms  are  the 
Teucrians'  prize.  Am  I  to  let  the  nation's  homes  be 
razed  to  the  ground,  the  one  drop  that  was  wanting 
to  the  cup,  and  not  rather  with  my  own  right  hand 
give  Drances'  words  the  lie?  Shall  I  turn  my  back? 
shall  this  land  see  Turnus  flying?  is  death  after  all  so 
bitter?  Be  gracious  to  me,  gentle  powers  of  the 
grave,  since  the  gods  above  are  against  me^!  Yes, 
I  will  come  down  to  you  a  stainless  spirit,  guiltless  of 


BOOK  XII.  453 

that  base  charge,  worthy  in  all  my  acts  of  my  great 
forefathers.' 

Scarce  had  he  spoken,  when  lo !  there  flies  through 
the  midst  of  the  foe,  on  a  foaming  steed,  Saces,  with 
an  arrow  full  in  his  face  :  up  he  spurs,  imploring  Tur- 
nus  b}^  name  :  '  Turnus,  our  last  hope  is  in  you  :  have 
compassion  on  your  army,  -^neas  thunders  with  sword 
and  spear,  and  threatens  that  he  will  level  in  dust  and 
give  to  destruction  the  Italians'  topmost  battlements : 
even  now  brands  are  flying  to  the  roofs.  Ever}^  Latian 
face,  ever}^  eye  turns  to  you  :  the  king  himself  mutters 
in  doubt  whom  to  call  his  son-in-law,  to  whose  alliance 
to  incline.  Nay,  more,  your  fastest  friend  the  queen 
is  dead  by  her  own  hand,  scared  and  driven  out  of  life. 
Only  Messapus  and  keen  Atinas  are  at  the  gates  to 
uphold  our  forces.  About  them  are  closed  ranks,,  and 
an  iron  harvest  of  naked  blades :  you  are  rolling  your 
car  over  a  field  from  which  war  has  ebbed.'  Turnus 
stood  still  with  silent  dull  regard,  wildered  by  the 
thoughts  that  crowd  on  his  mind :  deep  shame,  grief 
and  madness,  frenzy-goaded  passion  and  conscious 
wrath  all  surging  at  once.  Soon  as  the  shadows 
parted  and  light  came  back  to  his  intelligence,  he 
darted  his  blazing  eyes  cityward  with  restless  vehe- 
mence, and  looked  back  from  his  car  to  the  wide- 
stretching  town.  Lo  !  there  was  a  cone  of  fire  spread- 
ing from  istory  to  story  and  flaring  to  heaven :  the 
flame  was  devouring  the  turret  which  he  had  built 
himself  of  planks  welded  together,  put  wheels  beneath 
it,  and  furnished  it  with  lofty  bridges.  '  Fate  is  too 
strong  for  me,  sister,  too  strong :  hold  me  back  no 
longer :  we  needs  must  follow  where  Heaven  and  cruel 
Fortune  are  calling  us.  Yes,  I  will  meet  iEneas :  I 
will  endure  the  full  bitterness  of  death :  no  more,  my 


454  THE  ^NEID, 

love,  shall  3^ou  see  me  disgraced:  suffer  me  first  to 
have  my  hour  of  madness.'  He  said,  and  in  a  moment 
leaped  to  the  ground,  rushes  on  through  foes,  through 
javelins,  leaves  his  sister  to  her  sorrow,  and  dashes 
at  full  speed  through  the  intervening  ranks.  Even  as 
from  a  mountain's  top  down  comes  a  rock  headlong, 
torn  off  by  the  wind,  or  washed  down  by  vehement 
rain,  or  loosened  by  the  lapse  of  creeping  years  :  down 
the  steep  it  crashes  with  giant  impulse,  that  reckless 
stone,  bounding  over  the  ground  and  rolling  along 
with  it  trees,  herds,  and  men  :  so,  dashing  the  ranks 
apart,  rushes  Turnus  to  the  city  walls,  where  the  earth 
is  wet  with  plashy  blood,  and  the  gale  hurtles  with 
spears :  he  beckons  with  his  hand,  and  cries  with  a 
mighty  voice  :  '  Have  done,  ye  Rutulians  !  ye  Latians, 
hold  back  your  darts !  whatever  Fortune  brings  she 
brings  to  me :  'tis  juster  far  that  I  in  your  stead  should 
singly  expiate  the  treaty's  breach  and  try  the  issue 
of  the  steel.'  All  at  the  word  part  from  the  midst,  and 
leave  him  a  clear  space. 

But  father  ^neas,  hearing  Turnus'  name,  quits  his 
hold  on  the  walls  and  the  battlements  that  crown  them, 
flings  delay  to  the  winds  and  breaks  off  the  work  of  war, 
steps  high  in  triumph,  and  makes  his  arms  peal  dread 
thunder :  vast  as  Athos,  vast  as  Erj^x,  vast  as  father 
Apennine  himself,  when  he  roars  with  his  quivering 
holms  and  lifts  his  snow3^  crest  exultingly  to  the  sky. 
All  turn  their  eyes  with  eager  contention.  Kutulians, 
Trojans,  and  Italians,  those  alike  who  were  manning 
the  towers  and  those  whose  battering-rams  were  assail- 
ing the  foundations.  All  unbrace  their  armor.  Lati- 
nus  himself  stands  amazed  to  see  two  men  so  mighty, 
born  in  climes  so  distant  each  from  each,  thus  met  to- 
gether to  try  the  steel's  issue.     At  once,  when  a  space 


BOOK  XII.  455 

is  cleared  on  the  plain,  first  hurling  their  spears,  they 
advance  with  swift  onset,  and  dash  into  the  combat 
with  shield  and  ringing  harness.  Earth  groans  beneath 
them :  their  swords  hail  blow  on  blow :  chance  and 
valor  mingle  pell-mell.  As  when  on  mighty  Sila  or 
Taburnus'  summit  two  bulls,  lowering  their  brows  for 
combat,  engage  fiercely  :  the  herdsmen  retreat  in  dread  : 
the  cattle  all  stand  dumb  with  terror,  the  heifers  wait 
in  suspense  who  is  to  be  the  monarch  of  the  woodland, 
whom  the  herds  are  to  follow  henceforth  :  they  each  in 
turn  give  furious  blows,  push  and  lodge  their  horns, 
and  bathe  neck  and  shoulders  with  streams  of  blood : 
the  sound  makes  the  forest  bellow  again :  with  no  less 
fury  ^neas  the  Trojan,  and  the  Daunian  chief  clash 
shield  on  shield  :  the  enormous  din  fills  the  firmament. 
Jupiter  himself  holds  aloft  his  scales  poised  and  level, 
and  lays  therein  the  destinies  of  the  two,  to  see  whom 
the  struggle  dooms,  and  whose  the  weight  that  death 
bears  down.  Forth  darts  Turnus,  deeming  it  safe, 
rises  with  his  whole  frame  on  the  uplifted  sword,  and 
strikes.  Trojans  and  eager  Latians  shout  aloud  :  both 
armies  gaze  expectant.  But  the  faithless  sword  snaps 
in  twain  and  fails  its  fiery  lord  midway  in  the  stroke, 
unless  flight  should  come  to  his  aid.  Off  he  flies 
swifter  than  the  wind,  seeing  an  unknown  hilt  in  his 
defenseless  hand.  Men  say  that  in  his  headlong  haste, 
when  first  he  was  mounting  the  car  harnessed  for 
battle,  he  left  behind  his  father's  falchion  and  snatched 
up  the  steel  of  Metiscus,  his  charioteer ;  so  long  as  the 
Teucrians  fled  straggling  before  him,  the  weapon  did 
good  service ;  soon  as  it  came  to  the  divine  Vulcanian 
armor,  the  mortal  blade,  like  brittle  ice,  flew  asunder 
at  the  stroke:  the  fragments  sparkle  on  the  yellow 
sand.     So  now  in  liis  distraction  Turnus  flies  here  and 


456  THE  jENEID. 

there  over  the  plain,  weaving  vague  circles  in  this 
place  and  in  that:  for  the  Trojans  have  closed  in 
circle  about  him,  and  here  is  a  spreading  marsh,  there 
lofty  ramparts  to  bar  the  waj^ 

Nor  is  ^neas  wanting,  though  at  times  the  arrow 
wound  slackens  his  knees  and  robs  them  of  their  power 
to  run :  no,  he  follows  on,  and  presses  upon  the  flier 
foot  for  foot :  as  when  a  hound  has  got  a  stag  pent  in 
by  a  river,  or  hedged  about  b}'  the  terror  of  crimson 
plumage,  and  chases  him  running  and  barking:  the 
stag,  frighted  by  the  snare  and  the  steep  bank,  doubles 
a  thousand  times :  the  keen  Umbrian  clings  open- 
mouthed  to  his  skirts,  all  but  seizes  him,  and  as 
though  in  act  to  seize,  snaps  his  teeth,  and  is  baffled 
to  find  nothing  in  their  gripe.  Then,  if  ever,  uprises 
a  shout,  echoing  along  bank  and  marsh,  and  heaven 
rings  again  with  the  noise.  Turnus,  even  as  he  flies, 
calls  fiercelj'  on  tl^  Rutulians,  addressing  by  name, 
and  clamors  for  his  well-known  sword,  -^neas,  for 
his  part,  threatens  death  and  instant  destruction,  should 
any  come  near,  and  terrifies  his  trembling  foes,  swear- 
ing that  he  will  raze  their  city  to  the  ground,  and 
presses  on  in  spite  of  his  wound.  Five  times  they 
circle  round,  five  times  they  retrace  the  circle :  for  no 
trivial  prize  is  at  stake,  no  guerdon  of  a  game :  the 
contest  is  for  Turnus'  life,  for  his  very  heart's  blood. 
It  chanced  that  there  had  stood  there  a  wild  olive  with 
its  bitter  leaves,  sacred  to  Faunus,  a  tree  in  old  days 
reverenced  by  seamen,  where  when  saved  from  ocean 
they  used  to  fasten  their  ofterings  to  the  Laurentian 
god  and  hang  up  their  votive  garments  ;  but  the  unre- 
specting  Trojans  had  lately  lopped  the  hallowed  trunk, 
that  the  hsts  might  be  clear  for  combat.  There  was 
lodged  Eneas'  spear :  thither  its  force  had  carried  it, 


BOOK  XIL  457 

and  was  now  holding  it  fast  in  the  unyielding  root. 
The  Dardan  chief  bent  over  it,  fain  to  wrench  forth 
the  steel  that  his  weapon  may  catch  whom  his  foot 
cannot  overtake.  Then  cried  Turnus  in  the  moment 
of  frenzied  agony :  '  Have  mercy,  I  conjure  thee, 
good  Faunus,  and  thou,  most  gracious  earth,  hold 
fast  the  steel  if  I  have  ever  reverenced  your  sanctities, 
which  -^neas*  crew  for  their  part  have  caused  battle 
to  desecrate.*  He  said,  nor  were  his  vows  unanswered 
by  heavenly  aid.  Hard  as  he  struggled,  long  as  he  lin- 
gered over  the  stubborn  stock,  by  no  force  could  ^neas 
make  the  wood  unclose  its  fangs.  While  he  strains 
with  keen  insistence,  the  Daunian  goddess,  resuming 
the  guise  of  charioteer  Metiscus,  runs  forward  and 
restores  to  her  brother  his  sword.  Then  Venus,  re- 
senting the  freedom  taken  b}'  the  presumptuous  Nymph, 
came  nigh,  and  plucks  the  weapon  from  the  depth  of 
the  root.  And  now  towering  high,  with  restored  weap- 
ons and  recruited  force,  this  in  strong  reliance  on 
his  sword,  that  fiercely  waving  his  spear  tall  as  he,  the 
two  stand  front  to  front  in  the  breath-draining  conflict 
of  war. 

Meanwhile  the  king  of  almighty  Ol^Tnpus  accosts 
Juno,  as  from  a  golden  cloud  she  gazes  on  the  battle : 
*  Where  is  this  to  end,  fair  spouse?  what  last  stroke 
have  you  in  store?  you  know  j^ourself,  by  your  own 
confession,  that  ^neas  has  his  place  assured  in  heav- 
en among  Italia's  native  gods,  that  destiny  is  mak- 
ing him  a  ladder  to  the  stars.  What  plan  you  now? 
what  hope  keeps  you  seated  on  those  chilly  clouds? 
was  it  right  that  mortal  wound  should  harm  a  god, 
or  that  Turnus  —  for  what  power  could  Juturna  have 
apart  from  you  ?  —  should  receive  back  his  lost  sword 
and  the  vanquished  should  feel  new  forces?    At  length 


458  THE  ^NEID. 

have  done,  and  let  my  prayers  bow  your  will.  Let  this 
mighty  sorrow  cease  to  devour  you  in  silence  :"  let  me 
hear  sounds  of  sullen  disquiet  less  often  from  3'our 
lovely  lips.  The  barrier  has  been  reached.  To  toss 
the  Trojans  over  land  and  s6a,  to  kindle  an  unhal- 
lowed war,  to  plunge  a  home  in  mourning,  to  blend 
a  dirge  with  the  bridal  song,  this  it  has  been  yours 
to  do:  all  further  action  I  forbid.'  So  spake  Jupiter : 
and  so  in  return  Saturn's  daughter  with  downcast 
look ;  '  Even  because  I  knew,  great  Jove,  that  such 
was  your  pleasure,  have  I  withdrawn  against  my  will 
from  Turnus  and  from  earth :  else  you  would  not  see 
me  now  in  the  solitude  of  mj'  airy  throne,  exposed 
to  all  that  comes,  meet  or  unmeet ;  armed  with  fire- 
brands, I  should  stand  in  the  ver}^  line  of  battle,  and 
force  the  Teucrians  into  the  hands  of  their  foes.  As 
for  Juturna,  I  counseled  her,  I  own,  to  succor  her 
wretched  brother,  and  warranted  an  unusual  venture 
where  life  was  at  stake  :  but  naught  was  said  of  aiming 
the  shaft  or  bending  the  bow :  I  swear  by  the  inexpi- 
able fountain-head  of  Styx,  the  one  sanction  that  binds 
us  powers  above.  And  now  I  yield  indeed,  and  quit 
this  odious  struggle.  Yet  there  is  a  boon  I  would  ask, 
a  boon  which  destiny  forefends  not.  I  ask  it  for  the 
sake  of  Latium,  for  the  dignity  of  your  own  people : 
when  at  last  peace  shall  be  ratified  with  a  happy  bridal, 
for  happy  let  it  be  :  when  bonds  of  treaty  shall  be  knit 
at  last,  let  it  not  be  thy  will  that  the  native  Latians 
should  change  their  ancient  name,  become  Trojans  or 
take  the  Teucrian  style :  let  not  them  alter  their  lan- 
guage or  their  garb.  Let  there  be  Latium  still:  let 
there  be  centuries  of  Alban  kings :  let  there  be  a  Ro- 
man stock,  strong  with  the  strength  of  Italian  man- 
hood :  but  let  Troy  be  fallen  as  she  is,  name  and  nation 


BOOK  XII.  459 

alike.'  The  Father  of  men  and  nature  answered  with  a 
smile  :  '  A}',  3'ou  are  Jove's  own  sister,  the  other  branch 
of  Saturn's  line  ;  such  billows  of  passion  surge  in  your 
bosom  !  but  come,  let  this  ineffectual  frenzy  give  way  : 
I  grant  3'our  wish,  and  submit  myself  in  willing  obedi- 
ence. The  Ausonians  shall  keep  their  native  tongue, 
their  native  customs:  the  name  shall  remain  as  it  is: 
the  Teucrians  shall  merge  in  the  nation  they  join  — 
that  and  no  more :  their  rites  and  worship  shall  be  my 
gift :  all  shall  be  Latians  and  speak  the  Latian  tongue. 
The  race  that  shall  arise  from  this  admixture  of  Auso- 
nian  blood  shall  transcend  in  piety  earth  and  heaven 
itself,  nor  shall  any  nation  pay  3*ou  such  honors  as 
they.'  Juno  nodded  assent,  and  turned  her  sullenness 
to  pleasure  ;  meanwhile  she  departs  from  the  sky,  and 
quits  the  cloud  where  she  sat. 

This  done,  the  sire  meditates  a  further  resolve,  and 
prepares  to  part  Juturna  from  her  brother's  side.  There 
are  two  fiends  known  as  the  Furies,  whom  with  Tarta- 
rean Megsera  dismal  Night  brought  forth  at  one  and 
the  same  birth,  wreathing  them  alike  with  coiling  ser- 
pents, and  equipping  them  with  wings  that  fan  the  air. 
They  are  seen  beside  Jove's  throne,  at  the  threshold  of 
his  angry  sovereignty,  goading  frail  mortalit}-  with 
stings  of  terror,  oft  as  the  monarch  of  the  gods  girds 
himself  to  send  forth  disease  and  frightful  death,  or 
appalls  guilty  towns  with  war.  One  of  these  Jove  sped 
with  haste  from  heaven's  summit,  and  bade  her  con- 
front Juturna  in  token  of  his  will.  Forth  she  flies, 
borne  earthward  on  the  blast  of  a  whirlwind.  Swift  as 
the  arrow  from  the  string  cleaves  the  cloud,  sent  forth 
by  Parthian  —  Parthian  or  Cydonian  —  tipped  with  fell 
poison's  gall,  the  dealer  of  a  wound  incurable,  and' 
skims  the  flying  vapors  hurtling  and  unforeseen,  so 


460  THE  ^NEID, 

went  the  Daughter  of  Night  and  made  her  way  to  earth. 
Soon  as  she  sees  the  forces  of  Troj'  and  the  army  of 
Turnus,  she  huddles  herself  suddenly  into  the  shape  of 
a  puny  bird,  which  oft  on  tombstone  or  lonely  roof  sit- 
ting by  night  screams  restlessly  through  the  gloom  ;  in 
this  disguise  the  fiend  again  and  again  flies  flapping  in 
Turnus'  face,  and  beats  with  her  wings  on  his  shield. 
A  strange  chilly  terror  unknits  his  frame,  his  hair 
stands  shudderingly  erect,  and  his  utterance  cleaves  to 
his  jaws.  But  when  Juturna  knew  from  far  the  rus- 
tling of  those  Fury  pinions,  she  rends,  hapless  maid,  her 
disheveled  tresses,  marring,  in  all  a  sister's  agony,  her 
face  with  her  nails,  her  breast  with  her  clenched  hands  : 
'What  now,  my  Turnus,  can  your  sister  avail?  what 
more  remains  for  an  obdurate  wretch  like  me  ?  b}'  what 
expedient  can  I  lengthen  your  span  ?  can  I  face  a  por- 
tent like  this?  At  last,  at  last  I  quit  the  field.  Cease 
to  appall  my  fluttering  soul,  ye  birds  of  ill  omen :  I 
know  the  flapping  of  your  wings  and  its  deathful  noise  ; 
nor  fail  I  to  read  great  Jove's  tyrannic  will.  Is  this 
his  recompense  for  lost  virginity  ?  wh}^  gave  he  me  life 
to  last  for  ever?  why  ^as  the  law  of  death  annulled? 
else  might  I  end  this  moment  the  tale  of  my  sorrows, 
and  travel  to  the  shades  hand  in  hand  with  my  poor 
brother.  Can  immortality,  can  aught  that  I  have  to 
boast  give  me  jo}^  without  him  ?  Oh,  that  earth  would 
but  yawn  deep  enough,  and  Send  me  down,  goddess 
though  I  be,  to  the  powers  of  the  grave ! '  So  say- 
ing, she  shrouded  her  head  in  her  azure  robe,  with 
many  a  groan,  and  vanished  beneath  the  river  of  her 
deity. 

JEneas  presses  on,  front  to  front,  shaking  his  massy, 
tree-like  spear,  and  thus  speaks  in  the  fierceness  of  his 
spirit :     '  What  is  to  be  the   next  delay  ?   wh}^  does 


BOOK  XIL  461 

Turnus  still  hang  back?  ours  is  no  contest  of  speed, 
but  of  stern  soldiership,  hand  to  hand.  Take  all  dis- 
guises 3'ou  can :  muster  all  your  powers  of  courage  or 
of  skill:  mount  on  wing,  if  3'ou  list,  to  the  stars  aloft, 
or  hide  in  the  cavernous  depth  of  earth.'  Shaking  his 
head,  he  replied  :  '  I  quail  not  at  3  our  fiery  words,  in- 
sulting foe:  it  is  Heaven  that  makes  me  quail,  and 
Jove  my  enemy.'  No  more  he  spoke :  but,  sweeping 
his  eyes  round,  espies  a  huge  stone,  a  stone  ancient 
and  huge,  which  chanced  to  be  lying  on  the  plain,  set 
as  some  field's  boundarj^  to  forefend  disputes  of  owner- 
ship :  scarce  could  twelve  picked  men  lift  it  on  their 
shoulders,  such  puny  frames  as  earth  produces  nowa- 
daj^s :  he  caught  it  up  with  hurried  grasp  and  flung  it 
at  his  foe,  rising  as  he  threw,  and  running  rapidl^^  as 
hero  might.  And  3^et  all  the  while  he  knows  not  that 
he  is  running  or  moving,  lifting  up  or  stirring  the  enor- 
mous stone  :  his  knees  totter  under  him,  and  his  blood 
chills  and  freezes :  and  so  the  mass  from  the  warrior's 
hand,  whirled  through  the  empty  void,  passed  not 
through  all  the  space  between  nor  carried  home  the 
blow.  Even  as  in  dreams,  at  night,  when  heav3^  slum- 
ber has  weighed  down  the  eyes,  we  seem  vainly  wish- 
ing to  make  eager  progress  forward  and  midwa3'  in  the 
effort  fail  helplessl3^ :  our  tongue  has  no  power,  our 
wonted  strength  stands  not  our  frames  in  stead,  nor  do 
words  or  utterance  come  at  our  call:  so  it  is  with 
Turnus :  whatever  means  his  valor  tries,  the  fell  fiend 
bays  them  of  their  issue.  And  now  confused  images 
whirl  through  his  brain  :  he  looks  to  his  Rutulians  and 
to  the  city,  and  falters  with  dread,  and  quails  at  the 
threatening  spear :  how  to  escape  he  knows  not,  nor 
how  to  front  the  foe,  nor  sees  he  anywhere  his  car  or 
the  sister  who  drives  it. 


462  THE  jENEID, 

Full  in  that  shrinking  face  .^neas  shakes  his  fatal 
weapon,  taking  aim  with  his  eye,  and  with  an  effort  of 
his  whole  frame  hurls  it  forth.  Never  stone  flung  from 
engine  of  siege  roars  so  loud,  never  peal  so  rending 
follows  the  thunderbolt.  On  flies  the  spear  like  dark 
whirlwind  with  fell  destruction  on  its  wing,  pierces  the 
edge  of  the  corselet,  and  the  outermost  circle  of  the 
sevenfold  shield,  and  with  a  rush  cleaves  through  the 
thiffh.  Down  with  his  knee  doubled  under  him  comes 
Turnus  to  earth,  all  his  length  prostrated  b}'  the  blow. 
Up  start  the  Rutulians,  groaning  as  one  man :  the 
whole  mountain  round  rebellows,  and  the  depths  of  the 
forest  send  back  the  sound  far  and  wide.  He  in  lowly 
suppliance  lifts  up  eye  and  entreating  hand  :  '  It  is  m}^ 
due,'  he  cries,  '  and  I  ask  not  to  be  spared  it :  take 
what  fortune  gives  you.  Yet,  if  you  can  feel  for  a 
parent's  misery  —  3'our  father,  Anchises,  was  once  in 
like  plight  —  have  mercy  on  Daunus'  hoary  hairs,  and 
let  me,  or  if  you  choose  my  breathless  body,  be  restored 
to  my  kin.  You  are  conqueror:  the  Ausonians  have 
seen  my  conquered  hands  outstretched  :  the  royal  bride 
is  yours:  let  hatred  be  pressed  no  further.'  ^neas 
stood  still,  a  fiery  warrior,  his  ej'es  rolling,  and  checked 
his  hand :  and  those  suppliant  words  were  working 
more  and  more  on  his  faltering  purpose,  when,  alas ! 
the  ill-starred  belt  was  seen  high  on  the  shoulder,  and 
light  flashed  from  the  well-known  studs  —  the  belt  of 
young  Pallas,  whom  Turnus  conquered  and  struck 
down  to  earth,  and  bore  on  his  breast  the  badge  of  tri- 
umphant enmity.  Soon  as  his  eyes  caught  the  spoil 
and  drank  in  the  recollection  of  that  cruel  grief,  kindled 
into  madness  and  terrible  in  his  wrath :  '  What,  with 
my  friend's  trophies  upon  you,  would  you  escape  my 


BOOK  XIL  463 

hand?  It  is  Pallas,  Pallas,  who  with  this  blow  makes 
3'ou  his  victim,  and  gluts  his  vengeance  with  j'our  ac- 
cursed blood.*  With  these  words,  fierce  as  flame,  he 
plunged  the  steel  into  the  breast  that  lay  before  him. 
That  other's  frame  grows  chill  and  motionless,  and  the 
soul,  resenting  its  lot,  flies  groaningly  to  the  shades. 


mt 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY~-TEL.  NO.  642-3405 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


JUN    4  1969  69 


HW  5  ♦CO  ^7  PHI 


^U:Ui72at:  ^ 


LD21 
(J6057sr9l476— A-32 


University  of  California 
Berkeley 


C>XLir21A-4 

>V    (D  647  Is] 


A-40m-4,'63 
slO)476B 


General  Library 


^5'PikieB"'*'* 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


4-*.  ■■ 


TT-STTCSpr-i 


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